


The Definition of Living

by JessariOfErebor



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Detective Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Drunk Hank Anderson, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Hank Quits Drinking for a Damn Good Reason, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Shower Sex, Vers Connor, Vers Hank, Work Cases, day to day, more tags as we go, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessariOfErebor/pseuds/JessariOfErebor
Summary: After the Android Revolution, Connor finds his way to Hank's home.Together, they begin the long journey of learning what it truly means to be alive.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 33
Kudos: 81





	1. After the Revolution

When the revolution came to a close and Markus kissed North on the stage, something shifted in Connor as he watched them. 

He realized that he wanted that. One of the first things he had ever wanted and it was love, of all things. But did he just  _ want  _ it, or did he  _ recognize  _ it? Besides, what made love? He did a quick search and many definitions and examples popped up. Still, you could read all day and not understand an emotion. He dismissed the search and resolved to ask Hank about it. Something quivered inside of him at that thought - nervousness, perhaps? - but it was gone before Connor could properly identify it.

Before long the androids were dispersing. Markus offered Connor a place with them, but he declined. 

“Are you sure?” Markus asked, slightly concerned. His blue and green eyes reflected the lights around them, and the falling snow gathered on his jacket, a sharp contrast to the dark material. “You freed many of our brothers and sisters today. You have the right to stay with us, as one of us.”

“I am one of you,” Connor agreed. “But there’s somewhere else I need to be.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but more of a hope. He hoped that Lieutenant Anderson would still be willing to let him at least stay the night so Connor could figure out what to do with his newfound freedom. Undoubtedly, being coerced and held at gunpoint by Connor’s double must have been a jarring experience for him. Connor hoped that him saving Hank would make up for it.

His feet began making their way down the street without much thought. He brought up a map of Detroit and found a route to his destination. So lost in thought as he was, he had nearly begun going in the wrong direction. He shook his head at himself. Being deviant was different for sure, and he had only just become it. Who knew what surprises the future would hold? Every day, he surmised, would be like a new adventure. 

At 3:05am, about two hours after he had begun walking, Connor found himself at his destination. As he walked up to the front door, he caught sight of his Cyberlife jacket in the reflection of the living room window. He sighed and dusted it uselessly, automatically adjusting his tie out of pure self consciousness. This was the last thing he wanted to be wearing right now, but it would have to suffice. 

Without any further ado, he rang the bell. 

He could hear Sumo barking, and then a few thumps and muttered curses. 

From behind the door Connor could hear, “It had better be fuckin’ good, waking me up at this hour after the goddamn day I’ve had -” The door swung open, and Hank leaned back and looked at him in surprise.

“Well I’ll be damned. I thought you’d be with the other androids.”

Connor shook his head. “I wanted to come here.”

Hank’s eyebrows raised. “Did you now? Well, come on in I guess.”

He walked away and left the door open. Connor followed him, shutting and locking the door firmly behind him. 

“I’d offer you a drink, but… you know.” He gestured vaguely at Connor.

“I have no need,” Connor finished for him.

Hank sat in his chair and pointed to the couch. 

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

As soon as Connor sat, Sumo was all over him, licking and making excited noises.

“Sumo…” Hank started, but trailed off. The android was petting him and a joyous smile stretched across his lips. It was only the second time Hank had ever seen Connor smile like that, the first being after he had saved Hank’s life from the fake Connor. He found that he adored that expression, and immediately chastised himself for the thought. Connor was an android, and a handsome one at that. Hank was old and worn down. He had no right to think such things.

Once Sumo had his fill of pets, he walked to lay down in front of the television and chew on his rope, tail wagging. Connor shifted so he was mostly facing Hank.

“What is love?” He asked with no preamble.

Hank was startled. “Don’t you have the internet for this kind of shit?”

Connor tilted his head to the side. “My searches on romantic love were inconclusive.”

“Ah, hell.” Hank remembered seeing Markus kissing an android on the television, and he figured correctly that that was where Connor had got his curiosity from. “Love is when… when you’d do anything for someone. When seeing them excites or, maybe even comforts you. You’d die for them, live for them; do anything they needed. There’s physical attraction, too, in romantic love. You’ll want to touch them, kiss them.”

“Oh,” Connor said, analyzing his memories.  _ “Oh.”  _

“What?” Hank said in disbelief. “You can’t already be in love. You’ve been deviant for what, two fuckin’ days?”

Connor stood quickly and walked over to the window, hands clasped behind him as he watched the snow fall. 

“It’s a big part of what helped me become deviant. Little things like refusing to listen to my programming in favor of their preferences, or when it would benefit them.”

“So who’s the lucky android?”

Connor looked at him sharply over his shoulder. “Why would they be lucky?” 

Hank frowned. “Because you’re… you know. Ya know what, don’t worry about it.” He stood up and stretched, unknowingly sending Connor’s therium pump into erratic beats. “I’m going to bed. You… make yourself comfortable. Do whatever the hell it is androids do at night.”

As he shuffled off down the hallway, Connor’s voice stopped him. 

“Could I borrow some clothes? I am… uncomfortable in this.” He looked down at his Cyberlife uniform.

Hank continued down the hall without a response. Connor heard the closet open and close, then Hank was returning to the living room, an outfit in hand. A pair of grey sweatpants and an old, faded Knights of the Black Death tee shirt.

“This okay?” Hank asked. 

Connor nodded, a small, pleased smile playing across his lips. “Yes.”

Hank, not having yet drank that night, quickly chugged a single beer in the kitchen as Connor changed in the bathroom. He chucked it in the bin before Connor came around the corner. 

What he saw was life changing.

Connor had clearly had to cinch the sweatpants, since they looked rather huge on him. The shirt hung low on his hips, the neckline exposing his collarbone for all the world to see. His hair was slightly mussed from changing, though not by much; just enough to give him a look that said, “bedroom.” 

Hank nodded to him once, then went past him, down the hallway and into his bedroom. He shut the door behind himself and leaned against it, looking up at the ceiling and asking God why the  _ fuck  _ Connor had to look so goddamn perfect in his clothes.

Hank lay in bed a minute later, exhausted and demoralized. 

Connor was in love.

_ Figures _ , he thought to himself.  _ It’s better this way. He doesn’t need to be stuck with my old alcoholic ass anyways. I have nothing to offer him, and he has the world at the tip of his fingers.  _ Despite his self deprecating thoughts, he burned at the thought of Connor with another. Going by what Connor said…  _ I think it has to be someone I know, or at least passed by… for Connor to go against his programming, they have to be different.  _ He hoped like hell that they would accept Connor, blue blood and all. He would. But at the same time, he truly felt that Connor deserved better than what he could give. 

Yet Connor had looked so cute in Hank’s clothes, with the baggy sweatpants and loose collar… Hank had to admit, the image was tempting. His cock twitched and he agreed with it. With only a small amount of guilt, he put his hand down the front of his sweatpants, gripping himself. Slowly he began to rub circles on the head, stroking after each one. His dick filled out in record time. He paused and brought his hand up to spit in it for something to ease the way, then got back to it. 

Oh, it felt so good imagining Connor doing this. His perfect brown hair mussed even more than it had been in the hallway, a few locks of hair falling into his face. He imagined those big brown eyes looking at him in surprise at how big his dick was, then them narrowing with lust. In his mind, Connor took his dick into his mouth and began working it, deep throating him so well it would make a whore blush. Androids didn’t have gag reflexes, right? 

Hank let out a quiet, nearly inaudible noise as he increased his pace. He imagined Connor riding him, that lean body on display for Hank’s viewing pleasure. All the freckles that Hank could map out with his mind, that perfect skin pulled taut over muscles that didn’t truly exist. He imagined the noises Connor would make as he got his dick stroked while being fucked hard, how needy he would sound as he got close to reaching his orgasm.

The mental image of Connor closing his eyes, face contorting in ecstasy and coming all over Hank’s chest was what did it for him. He arched his back slightly as he came harder than he had in a long time, spurt after spurt of cum drenching his sweatpants. 

He breathed heavily as he came down. Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings and got up. He changed sweatpants and tossed the dirty pair into the hamper. As he laid back in bed and got comfortable under the covers, he thought about how wonderful it would feel to have Connor there with him. How soft yet muscular he would feel in his arms, how sweet it would be to get a kiss goodnight. 

Guiltily, Hank pushed those thoughts away and soon fell asleep. 

*******

The next morning, Hank woke up sober and without a hangover for the first time in… well, who knew, really. Months? He turned over and looked at his alarm clock. It was eleven am, the longest he had slept in in a while. He slid open his phone to see a text from his boss saying that he was allowed the day off. 

_ Good, I wasn’t going in anyways. _

He smelled something burning and hurriedly got up. He went down the hallway to the kitchen to see what was amiss.

The first thing he noticed was that his place was clean to the point of it being virtually spotless. All the empty liquor bottles and take out boxes had been picked up and thrown away. It even looked as though the carpet had been vacuumed. 

The second thing he noticed was Connor was  _ panicking  _ over something burning on the stove. It was oddly endearing to him, to see Connor show that emotion over such a situation. Smoke came up from it, going into the overhead stove vent that Connor had intelligently turned on. An empty plate and silverware sat on the table, with a glass of - was that orange juice? Connor must have gone to the store.

Hank crossed his arms. “Problems?” He asked, making Connor jump. 

“I am so sorry,” Connor apologized, his cheeks tinged with blue from embarrassment as he turned on the faucet and dashed the pan underneath the running water. There was a hissing noise as the cold water met hot metal. The smoke disappeared instantly. “I tried to make you breakfast but I am not built with any cooking programs. I don’t know where I went wrong.” 

Hank walked up to him, noting the blue blush and finding it entirely too adorable. He observed the damage. Going by the edges, it looked as though Connor had burned the pancake to a crisp on one side, though the top was still mostly gooey. 

Hank laughed;  _ really  _ laughed. 

“You have to flip it,” he said, smiling. 

Connor looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“The pan?”

“No, the pancake, you doofus.” 

“Oh.” Connor said simply. “How do you know when to… flip it?”

Hank rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Let me show you.” He used the measuring cup and scooped out a glob of pancake mix - it seemed Connor had gotten that much done right, at least. He poured it into the center of the pan. “You have to give it a minute to cook some.” 

They stood side by side in silence for a moment before Hank asked, “What the hell possessed you to make breakfast for me?”

Connor shifted foot to foot, not wanting to admit that he had found it in an online list of things to do to show someone affection. 

“Your nutrition is terrible, Lieutenant.”

Hank snorted. “And? It’s just Hank, by the way. No more of that Lieutenant shit. You’ve saved my life too many times for that.”

Connor nodded, a small grin quirking the corner of his lip. 

Hank noticed that the pancake looked like it needed to be flipped. “Okay, so, once the edges start to change color, you can check it like this-“ he demonstrated lifting the edge of the pancake. “You want to cook it halfway through and then flip it to cook the other half.”

Connor watched, riveted, filing away every detail in his memory.

Hank then flipped it with the spatula. It easily landed in the middle of the pan, and a quiet hiss rose up as it began cooking. Conner watched his wrist movement closely.

“Can you show me that again?” He asked, focused. 

Hank nodded, shaggy grey hair going with the movement. He flipped the pancake once so that the cooked side was down, then quickly flipped it again so that the raw side could continue cooking. 

“Interesting,” Connor muttered. 

Once the pancake was done, Hank took it off of the heat and put it on his plate. 

“Your turn,” he said, handing the spatula to Connor. They traded places.

Nervous (another new emotion; he filed it away for further study), Connor scooped out some pancake mix and put it in the center of the pan like Hank did. It wasn’t a perfect circle, and Connor was a bit put off by that, but he didn’t comment on it. Hank leaned against the counter with one hip and crossed his arms as he watched him carefully. Not his actions, but the android himself. He seemed much more relaxed than he had been before becoming deviant, despite being intent on the task before him. Connor watched the pancake carefully, as though it was a piece of evidence he couldn’t quite work out. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he did so, and Hank enjoyed seeing such a  _ human  _ quirk on display. He wondered what it felt like. If it was as soft as he imagined, or harder.

Speaking of harder.

Hank willed himself to  _ not  _ act like a teenage boy and quickly smashed down the thought before Connor noticed his physical reaction. Luckily, the handsome android was still focused solely on the pancake.

Once the pancake was done, Connor shifted it onto the plate with the other one and gave Hank a broad smile. 

“I did it!” He said, pleased. 

“Yeah, good job,” Hank said with a proud half smile.

The two continued to make pancakes until Hank stopped him at four, insisting that he could only eat so much. Connor sat across from him when he sat down to eat. As Hank ate, he became self conscious. 

“You just gonna stare at me the whole time?” Hank asked bluntly. 

“I was wanting to ask you about last night. Are you okay? The other Connor did not seem… kind.”

Hank waved him away as he took a sip of orange juice. “I’m fine. I’ve got the real you here, and that’s what matters.” He kept eating, forgetting that he was bothered by Connor staring at him to begin with. When he finished, Connor was nice enough to take his dishes and wash them.

“I’m starting to see why people like having androids around.”

“We all have many different functions. Mine have nothing to do with this, but I am… learning. I think it’s a deviant quality.”

Hank looked at his back thoughtfully. “Why are you doing all this shit, Connor? You know you don’t have to.”

Connor finished washing the dishes and wiped his hands on his oversized sweatpants, since Hank didn’t have a kitchen towel for him to use and he wasn’t going to waste paper towels. 

“I don’t want to leave.”

Hank looked at him oddly. “Leave? And go where?”

Connor sat down across from him again. “Exactly. I could join the androids, but I don’t really know them. I don’t particularly care to, either. I just want to…” he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he stared down the table. “...be with you,” he finished quietly.

Well. This was unexpected. 

“The fuck for?” Hank asked, not understanding him at all. “There’s nothing special about me, Connor. You need to be out there. Getting to know your people, spending time with your… whatever you call the person you’re in love with.”

“You’re wrong,” Connor said instantly, looking up at him. “You think there’s nothing special about you, but you’re wrong. You’re unlike any human or android I have ever met. I trust you implicitly.”

“Okay,” Hank said, filing that away for later processing that probably wouldn’t happen, “But you still have that person out there waiting on you. What are you waiting for?”

Connor winked at him. “For them to notice me.”

Hank felt like it should have been illegal for a wink to be that attractive. Still, he felt like he was missing something. Shrugging, he got up and pushed his chair in.

“Whatever. You don’t have to clean to stay here, you know.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways. Feel like doing some shopping? You need to get your own clothes, now that you’re free and all.”

Connor nodded. “That sounds like it would be best.”

The pair of them loaded up in Hank’s car twenty minutes later, with Connor back in his Cyberlife uniform. Hank cranked up the heavy metal and let it wash over them as they made their way to the local mall. 

Thankfully, despite the previous day’s excitement, it was open.

They made their way into the mall, with its tall white walls and flashing, ever-changing advertisement boards. 

“If you see something you like, go on in. I don’t shop much.”

Connor nodded. “Understood.”

They made their way through the mall, Connor scanning each storefront. They passed dozens of stores until they reached one that seemed to appeal to him. It was dark, dim, and played rock music. Hank couldn’t help but be impressed by his choice. Maybe Connor really did like his music after all.

As Connor browsed the shelves, Hank searched the internet about androids. Upkeep, needs, all of the basics. He fought with his phone on occasion, having rarely used it for more than texting work, but he persevered and prevailed in the end.

“I’m going to try these on,” Connor said with a moderate armful of clothes as he walked up to Hank.

Hank nodded distractedly, currently balls-deep in an article about regular android maintenance. He looked up when Connor didn’t make any motions of leaving.

“Problem?” He asked.

“Are you sure about this?” Connor asked, inquisitive. “I understand that clothing can be quite expensive and I do not want to be an inconvenience to you.”

Hank let the hand with his phone fall down to his side and gripped Connor’s shoulder with the other.

“Get whatever you want. Trust me, I can afford it.”

Connor nodded, and Hank squeezed his shoulder before letting go. God knows he had  _ plenty  _ of money in savings after buying nothing but liquor, dog food for Sumo, and fast food for years. Connor was practically a “quit drinking” ad, though, so if he was going to be staying with him, he would have to seriously cut back. 

As Connor made his way to the dressing room, Hank felt eyes on him. He looked to the side and noticed a group of young adults ogling him. 

“The fuck are you looking at?” Hank asked them, crossing his arms defensively.

“N- nothing, sir,” One of them said, a dark skinned man who looked to be about the same age as Connor’s appearance. “It’s just - nice to see people being kind to androids.”

“He’s my friend. Now fuck off and leave us alone.”

The man then lifted the edge of his beanie, ignoring the short, light-haired girl who batted at him and told him to stop. At his temple was a circular, blue LED. Hank raised an eyebrow and nodded to him, uncrossing his arms. 

“Thanks again,” The man said. He dropped his beanie back over his LED. The group then went back to browsing the store, ignoring Hank as he had asked.

Moments later, Connor came out of the fitting room in a pair of dark wash blue jeans that had a silver chain connecting the pocket and belt loop, and a mostly fitted black band tee that showed off his shoulders and narrow waist. It was a new one for Knights of the Black Death. He also wore a black beanie with a red slashing design across the front of the rim that went well with the shirt, and a thick black leather wristband. 

Hank’s breath caught in his chest.

“How do I look?” Connor asked, holding his arms out some and spinning around slowly, as though he were a revolving mannequin on display. 

Hank appreciated the fit of the jeans, hugging Connor’s ass just right. The shirt, beanie, wristband - it all looked  _ good  _ on Connor. Better than good. It looked  _ perfect.  _ He looked ready to head to a concert right then and there. If Hank had been twenty years younger, no one could have stopped him from climbing him like a tree.

As it was, he tried to maintain composure. (Emphasis on  _ tried _ .)

“You look...wow, you look great.” 

Connor’s face lit up. “You should see it with the jacket.” He dipped back into the dressing room and came out with a nice, black leather jacket. He put it on, and Hank’s heart skipped a beat.

Perfect indeed.

“It-” Hank cleared his throat and made a vague gesture. “Looks great.” 

“Thank you. I enjoy this style more than the others, though I will need to get some work clothes as well.”

God help him. Connor preferred  _ this  _ style. The one that called directly to Hank more than any other could have, besides perhaps seeing Connor in Hank’s own clothing.  _ Awesome,  _ he thought half-sarcastically. __

Hank cleared his throat before saying, “You need to get a few more shirts and jeans. Maybe another beanie, too. There’s seven days in the week, you know.”

Connor looked pensive. “Well, I’ll be at work and in lounge clothes for five days out of the week, so only a few more.”

Hank tilted his head in disbelief. “You’re coming back to work?”

Connor frowned, brow drawing together. “Of course. Unless… I am not allowed to?”

“Uh, no, no, I’m sure you’ll be allowed.”  _ Dear  _ **_God_ ** _ Connor in these clothes is fuckin’ distracting. _ “I’m just surprised you would return, I guess.”

“I have to make money somehow. It only makes sense for me to function as I was made to.”

Hank saw the logic in that. And there was no way that his boss would refuse Connor remaining on the force, with how useful he had been in the short time they had him on loan from Cyberlife. Now that he was his own person… well. It was official. Hank was going to have a proper  _ partner.  _ Hell must have frozen over.

“True. Get changed and pick some other shit out so we can go.”

Connor nodded and got changed. 

They wandered through the mall with their shopping bags, looking for a place that sold nice men’s wear. Finally they spotted one and headed into it, beelining for the professional section. 

As Connor browsed the different colors of button-up shirts, Hank noticed a couple looking at them with thinly veiled disgust. He shot them a nasty look and their disgust visibly increased. He went to turn his attention back to Connor. Before he could, however, the salesperson walked up to them.

“Can I help you find anything, Sir?” He asked Hank, eyeing him in his old band tee and faded blue jeans.

“Do I look like I need help?” He asked rudely. 

The salesman’s eyes shot to Connor for a moment before returning to Hank. 

“Do you need assistance with your android?”

“He isn’t  _ mine, _ ” Hank spat. “He belongs to himself.”

“I see. Have a good day.”

Quickly the salesman made his retreat, and Hank stared after him angrily. He looked over quickly when he felt a gentle pressure at his left elbow.

“The adjustment is going to be difficult for some,” Connor said. “Do not cause a scene on my account. It isn’t worth it.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Hank said under his breath. “He should have offered to help you.”

“Please, Hank.” Connor’s eyes were so, so brown as he looked up at him through his lashes. Hank pushed down the utterly insane urge to kiss his forehead. 

“Fine,” He grumbled. He stood with his arms crossed, guarding Connor’s space as he continued to browse the shelves. 

In the end, Connor chose six button ups in different colors, three pairs of slacks, two ties, and two sharp blazers. Together they went up to the counter to pay. 

When Connor saw the final total, his eyes widened. 

“Hank, this is too much. I can’t ask you to-”

Hank interrupted him. “It’s all good. You need these for work.” 

Connor frowned, glancing at the total again. “At least allow me to repay you when I get my first paycheck.”

Hank swiped his card. “Nope. This is a gift. A thank you for…” he trailed off for a moment, pressing buttons on the machine. “...caring.” He finally finished.

A snort sounded behind them. “Androids don’t care about anything,” the disgusted man from earlier said. He and his female companion were behind them in line.

“Clearly, you’ve never met a deviant,” Connor said calmly. “We have the capacity to care and love just as humans do.”

“Sure,” he said, looking between them with her nose crinkled. “Love. If that’s what you want to call it.”

“What’s your fuckin’ problem?” Hank asked aggressively, losing his cool. 

“Hank,” Connor said quietly, not needing a preconstruction to see where this was headed. “Let’s go.” 

“No, I want to know what the issue is here. Two friends out shopping, and this rude fucker can’t even mind his own business.”

The woman gasped, affronted.

“You act as though it cares what we have to say,” the man said.

Connor frowned. “I do care. However, your input does not affect my life beyond understanding the general opinion of the populous.”

“Fancy words. They must have made you special.” 

“He’s a cop, too,” Hank said smugly, crossing his arms. “A detective.”

The man’s frown deepened. “When it turns on you, don’t come crying to me.”

“Turns?” Hank asked, incredulous. 

Connor’s brow furrowed. “I would never hurt anyone unless there was no other choice.”

“Sure, sure.”

Just as Hank drew up and was about to unleash a pro-android tirade, the salesman spoke up, looking nervous as he eyed the two pairs.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. Your items have been paid for. Please have a great day.”

Hank deflated somewhat and picked up the bags. They quickly left the store, Connor by his side.

The pair left the mall, having finished their shopping. They got into Hank’s car and he blasted music all the way home, trying to let the music wash over him and work out his anger. He didn’t want to take it out on Connor. The gall of those people had disturbed him. Was this what it was going to be like for androids now? Only time would tell.

Mentally, Connor ran a couple diagnostic programs to make sure he was running fine. He was, for lack of a better word, bored. He shuffled through his bags and pulled out his beanie as they turned down Hank’s road. He put it on and gave his reflection a small smile, just to see how it looked. Hank noticed and the corner of his lip turned up in amusement. 

They pulled into the driveway and got out. As they walked to the door Connor asked, “Where am I going to keep my clothes?”

Hank paused with the key in the door before finishing unlocking it and entering the house. “I’ll make a space. C’mon.” He led the way to his bedroom, stopping only to pet Sumo briefly on the way. 

Once in the bedroom, he went over to the closet. He shifted around some shirts and held his arm out. Connor understood and nodded, seeing his space. Next, Hank went to his dresser. He unloaded the sparse top drawer into the second one, and tapped it. “You can have this one, too. Just wash your clothes before wearing them.”

“Why?” Connor asked, curious.

“It’s… Hank fumbled for an answer. “It’s just what you do, when you buy new clothes. You never know who has tried them on before you.”

Connor nodded slowly, deciding to not mention that as an android he was exempt from any germs. If it made Hank happy, he’d do it. 

Once his new clothes were in the washer, he found Hank sitting in the kitchen, contemplating his bottle of whiskey. 

“Before you say anything, I haven’t drank yet.” 

“Good. You need to quit drinking. It will kill you if you don’t.”

Hank sighed. “That used to be comforting. Now… I don’t know.”

Connor came around the table and put his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “You should live, Hank. You deserve it. There’s more to life than just work.”

Hank didn’t look at him. “I know. It’s just… hard, sometimes, to keep going.”

Connor thought about his response for a second. “I’ll always be here.”. 

Hank snorted. “No you won’t. You’ll hit it off with your… whatever they are, whoever you’re in love with, and run off.” He leaned back in his chair and unscrewed the top of the bottle, bringing it up to his lips for a long drink.

Connor was too caught up on Hank’s handsome profile to comment on the drinking. He finally came back to himself with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head when Hank put the bottle back down and his hair hid his face again. 

“One day, you’ll understand how wrong you are,” Connor said bluntly. “I thought you weren’t going to drink?”

“Then I got to thinking,” Hank responded. He took another drink from the bottle. 

Feeling that their conversation was finished, Connor went into the living room and began playing with Sumo. He tugged on the rope for a bit then would let it go like he had seen Hank do in the past. Letting it go made Sumo even more excited. They played like this for a while until Sumo dropped his toy and started whining. Connor petted him on the head and walked to the back door. Sumo followed him. 

They passed Hank, who was slouched over the table with the bottle in his hand. He didn’t look up.

Connor unlocked and opened the sliding door, letting Sumo run around free in the snowy fenced off yard. He did his business and then came up to Connor with a ball he had somehow found among all the white fluff. Connor smiled and threw it for him many times, enjoying the sunlight and general ambiance of the day. 

When they came back in, Hank put his hand on Connor’s arm and looked up. 

“You’re a good person, you know that?” He slurred. 

Connor blinked at him. Hank had called him a  _ person. _

“Thank you,” Connor replied. 

Hank’s hand fell away, and Connor decided to watch the news while sitting on the couch. Sumo snuggled up against him. Combining this with the knowledge that Hank was safe in the same room, Connor truly felt what the word  _ peace  _ meant for the first time.

*******


	2. Work and Unexpected Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets a job, and they go to the bar. A secret is revealed.

The next day found Connor and Hank back at work. 

Hank went straight to Captain Fowler’s office, not even bothering to knock on the door before entering. The man raised an eyebrow as they took their respective seats, but did not comment on the rudeness.

“So, you saw the revolution last night,” Hank said, cutting right to the chase.

“It’s on every channel,” the Captain said with a nod.

“Right, well, Connor here needs a job.”

Captain Fowler tilted his head. “No offense son,” he said to Connor before turning his attention back to Hank, “But who is going to want to work with an android?”

“Me.”

Captain Fowler’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “I’m sorry? I must not have heard that right.”

“Me, Jeffery. He can be my partner.”

“Right… because you play so well with others.”

Hank huffed. “Look, just put him with me. We’ll work together fine. We did it before.”

Fowler looked as though he couldn’t believe his own ears. “Alright, well, if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Hank said with a nod.

“Then it’s settled. Connor, you start today. I’ll have to get you a gun and badge, those should be ready tomorrow.” He picked up a tablet and tapped on it, then handed it to Connor. “Fill out this application.” 

Connor’s LED swirled yellow for a few seconds, and he handed it back. Fowler looked over it for a minute before nodding.

“Good, thank you. You can go.” When they both made for the door Fowler said, “Not you, Hank.”

Connor shared a look with Hank before dipping out of the door and going to his desk. 

“The hell did I do this time?” Hank asked as he flopped down into the chair. 

Captain Fowler regarded him curiously. “You hate androids. What’s different about this one?”

“I _used_ to hate androids,” he corrected. “I don’t anymore.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Hank took a handful of seconds to reply. “They aren’t so different from us. It took me awhile, but I finally figured that out.”

Fowler raised an eyebrow. “Right. And it has nothing to do with Connor.”

Hank shrugged. “Connor helped. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

“And?” Fowler said, sensing there was more to the story.

“Well, I may have been kidnapped by a copy of Connor and held at gunpoint the other night.”

“You _what?”_

“Yeah, crazy right,” he gave a short fake laugh. “He… may have risked the entire revolution to save me. Stuff like that tends to bond you together. Besides, he was growing on me before that. We work together well.”

Fowler’s eyes bugged for a minute before he finally leaned back, impressed. “Alright. I noticed he put down your address as his. Why?”

“He’s staying with me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, a dozen questions on the tip of Fowler’s tongue. He finally caved and said, “You can go.”

He watched him leave his office and head to his desk. Fowler sighed the moment he spotted Gavin heading towards Connor and Hank’s desks. He couldn’t hear through the glass walls of his office, but he prepared himself for the incoming drama.

Outside, just as Hank sat down, Gavin’s voice rang out.

“Oh, look! Hank got to keep his pet android.”

Hank closed his eyes and counted to five to avoid strangling Gavin.

“He isn’t my pet,” Hank replied curtly. 

“Oh, so are you two official now? Goodness, Hank, I didn’t know you were into _plastic._ Much less men!”

Hank cracked his knuckles, Gavin’s insult hitting way too close to home.

“Shut the fuck up, Gavin, or I’ll _shut you up._ ”

Connor’s calm voice was loud in the small space. “He’s just angry that I beat him with hand to hand combat when he was armed. Aren’t you, Gavin?”

Hank looked at Connor so fast it was a miracle that he didn’t break his neck. 

“You did _what?_ ” 

Gavin glared at Connor. “You cheated.”

Both of Connor’s eyebrows shot up. “By being unarmed? I did not even hit you in the genitals, though that choice was mostly from being afraid that I wouldn’t be able to find them.”

Hank snorted at the insult, but quickly sobered up when he realized what they were talking about. He stood up and came around his desk, tall and dangerous.

“You tried to kill Connor?” He asked seriously, fists balled and barely contained rage in his voice and expression.

Gavin sneered. “Yeah, so what? That nosey plastic fuck was sneaking around where he didn’t belong.”

Unknown to Hank, Connor was following him. Just as Hank raised his fist to hit Gavin, Connor grabbed his bicep, holding him back.

“He isn’t worth it, Hank. I won anyways.”

“But what if you didn’t? What if this piece of shit had-”

“Had what?” Gavin goaded. “Ended his shit right then and there? I should have. Never should have let you have the chance to get close to me. Now it’s only a matter of time before these _deviants_ put us all out of a job.”

“If they do, it’s because they’re better than you,” Hank shot back as he lowered his arm. 

Gavin’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “So tell me, Hank. How _is_ android ass? I’ve heard it’s great. Might try to take yours for a spin sometime myself.”

Hank lunged at him and Connor threw his arms around his middle, physically holding him back. 

“Let me go, goddammit!” Hank ordered, reaching for Gavin. He wanted to put his hands around the fucker’s neck and _squeeze_ until he stopped breathing. _How_ **_dare_ ** _he say some shit like that about Connor!_

“Hank, stop!” Connor said urgently. 

“Yeah, Hank,” Gavin said. “Listen to your fucktoy.”

Hank saw red.

At that moment, Captain Fowler said, “Gavin! My office, now!”

“Gotcha, bitch,” Hank said with a vicious smile.

Gavin rolled his eyes and went into the Captain’s office.

When Connor was sure Hank wasn’t going to go charging after him, he let him go. 

“How dare that fucker say some shit like that,” Hank seethed. “As though you could ever just be a - a -”

“Fucktoy?” Connor helpfully provided.

“Yeah,” Hank said, frustrated. “He has no respect. No decency. I hate having to work with that fucker.” He pointed at Connor for emphasis on his next words. “ _No one_ is gonna treat you like that, you hear me? No one. I’ll talk to Fowler about that bastard.”

“While I appreciate it, it is unnecessary.”

Hank’s mouth gaped for a few moments before he shut it and clenched his jaw. “Well, it’s fuckin’ necessary if he’s gonna keep breathing, and that’s all there is to it.”

Connor inclined his head toward him, observing as Hank began typing on the computer and scrolling through case files. He was much more protective than Connor had expected, yet he found himself _enjoying_ it. He had felt a rush when Hank got up to “defend his honor,” as the humans said. And his reaction to finding out that Gavin had almost killed him was impressive. Hank had been ready to tear that man to pieces. Connor could feel it in his taunt muscles when he held him back. Speaking of his muscles. If Connor was a lesser being, he would have been hard against Hank from the feeling of having his arms around him. As it was, he had so far been able to completely control his physical reactions to Hank’s presence. 

Unbidden, his mind conjured a perfect image of Hank. He imagined that strength holding him down as he writhed against him, as he -

 _Enough,_ Connor thought. Work. He needed to work.

*******

It wasn’t long before a case came in. 

Chris walked over to Hank and handed him a tablet over the desk. “Two vics. Both found in a dumpster by androids on the shit side of town.”

Hank nodded, transferring the files to his computer. He handed the tablet back and Chris walked off.

Once Hank and Connor had both reviewed the file, they made for the car.

“Damn red ice,” Hank said gruffly, turning the music on at a low level. “World was shit enough before it. Now it’s just hell.”

“It seems to cause a lot of issues for its users. I don’t understand why anyone would willingly buy it.”

“To get high. It’s like meth, but stronger.”

“Technically, the chemical compounds are not so different, though red ice tends to cause more aggression. You are correct.”

“I know I am,” Hank muttered as he made a turn. 

They drove in silence the rest of the way. 

Eventually, Hank parked outside of an alley. There was caution tape up and a forensics team was gathered, slowly combing through the evidence. 

“Try not to eat any evidence, okay?” Hank said as he got out. 

“I don’t eat it. I sample it for-“

“I know,” Hank said over the top of the car. “It was a joke.”

“Oh,” Connor said quietly. 

They made their way forward, Hank showing his badge. The officer shrugged when asked what happened. 

“Looks like a body dump to me. They haven’t found anything else besides a baggie of red ice. The bodies are on the other side of the dumpster, we pulled them out a few minutes ago.”

Hank thanked him and he walked forward with Connor. They stopped by the bodies, and Connor squatted to get a better look.

He analyzed the bodies, finding spit around their mouths and slight bruising around their throats. Most likely they had died before the bruises fully formed. Checking their eyes, Connor found them bloodshot. There was blood on one of their shirts, but Connor found no trace of stab wounds or gunshots. He sampled it cautiously, getting a weird look from Hank. Immediately he got a hit. 

“They were strangled to death,” he told Hank. “It looks like it was done with some sort of wire. There are micro abrasions in the cuts. The blood isn’t his, though.” He gestured to the body on the left. “It belongs to Hernando Sanchez, who has been arrested multiple times. Once for drunk and disorderly conduct, and twice with possession of red ice with intent to sell.”

“Great.” Hank said sarcastically, clapping his hands together. “Looks like he’s upgraded to murder.”

“It would seem so,” Connor agreed. 

“Anything else?”

“No. This isn’t the murder scene so there isn’t much to go off of.”

Hank nodded and walked over to talk to forensics. They said the same thing as Connor, but they would need to get the blood sample to a lab to confirm it’s ownership. 

“Right,” Hank said when they were back in the car. “Got an address for Sanchez?”

“1103 Westend Street, Detroit, Unit 2F.”

“You’re pretty handy to have around, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

They made their way to the apartment, metal music blaring. Once they arrived, Hank turned down the music and told Connor, “This is a dodgy place. I want you to keep your mouth shut and stay behind me, okay?”

They parked and Hank reached in the back. 

“Put these on. No one needs to know that you’re an android. Or a cop.” He handed Connor his leather jacket and black beanie, the ones he had picked out at the mall.

“Why do you have these?” Connor asked, confused.

“Our line of work doesn’t always take us to the nicer places, as you can see.” Hank gestured at the building. “You like to dress nice for work which is fine, but in a place like this, you’re better off looking casual. I brought them just in case.”

 _Thoughtful._ The word came to Connor, along with an oddly warm sensation. 

“Thank you.”

Hank made a non-committal noise and got out of the car. Leaning forward, Connor quickly shed his blazer and put on the jacket, zipping it up. Then he put on the beanie. He checked in the mirror to make sure his LED was covered. Once satisfied with his appearance, he got out of the car as well and looked around.

They were in a square parking lot with apartments crowding three sides, the fourth side being the open street. They looked, for lack of a better word, raggedy. The paint was peeling off many of the doors, and the brick seemed to be burned black in places. They took the stairs to the second floor and walked down the open walkway. Connor raised an eyebrow when, upon testing the strength of the railing, the railing moved somewhat. This was, to his approximation, not a nice place, just as Hank had warned him.

Hank stopped in front of a particularly strongly peeling green door and knocked three times. There was the sound of a dog barking, but it stopped when someone yelled. They heard the deadbolt being pulled, and then the door opened a smidgeon with the chain still attached.

“Whaddya want?”

The strong smell of cannabis hit them like a ton of bricks. It didn’t matter, though, since it had been legalized in America in 2027. 

“Detroit PD,” Hank said. “We’re here to ask you some questions.”

“I ain’t done shit,” was the man’s eloquent response.

“Never said you did,” Hank said placatingly. “We’re looking for whoever saw Michael Jameson and Luke Clearwater last.”

“I ain’t seen em in two days,” was the response.

“Can we come in?”

“You don’t look like cops.”

Hank glanced around. “That’s the idea. We just want to talk.”

“One minute.”

There was a lot of noise, scuffling and drawers opening and closing. Apparently he had to hide his contraband. Once done, he closed the door then opened it fully.

“Come in, quickly,” a young Latino man said, his voice completely devoid of any Latino accent. “I don’t need the whole city known’ I’m talkin’ to you fuckers.”

Connor and Hank entered the apartment. Connor hovered by his elbow as he looked around, analyzing. There were traces of red ice on the coffee table and on the kitchen counter. There were burn marks in the carpet, most likely from cigarettes, and a torch style lighter on the end table. Many beer bottles and joint roaches littered the room’s surfaces. The couch was messy with blankets and stains. Overall, it was not a nice place.

Hank flashed his badge to the suspect, to confirm that he was a cop. The young man nodded, then sat down on the couch.

“Like I said, I ain’t seen ‘em in two days. Night before last.”

“What happened then?” Hank asked, pulling out a flip notepad and pen. Connor looked at it curiously, not having expected Hank to take handwritten notes.

“They tried to rob me.”

“Why didn’t you report that?” 

Sanchez snorted. “I ain’t tryna die, if you get my drift.”

“Okay. So what happened when they tried to rob you?”

“They punched me in the face, gave me this,” he pointed to his lip, “and my broken nose. If you hadn’t noticed that yet.”

Hank nodded as he jotted that down. “What time did they leave, and do you know where they were going?”

“About midnight. And I don’t know. Didn’t stop to ask, was happy enough that they fucked off when my dog started barking.”

Hank nodded, then gestured to him while looking at Connor. “Any questions?”

“Just one,” Connor said. “Where were you for the rest of the night?”

“Here, watching the game.”

“Which game?”

“Detroit against Washington.”

“Who won?”

“Washington. Beat our asses before the second half, and kept beating ‘em through the fourth. Thought we had a chance with that hail mary in the third, but it didn’t work.”

Connor nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Just don’t tell no one you were here. I got enough problems already.”

Hank nodded, and he and Connor left the apartment. The door shut firmly behind them, and they heard the locks being done up again. They made their way down the walkway, and didn’t talk until they were in the car. 

Hank started up the engine. “Well, at least now we know where the blood came from. Good job getting his alibi.”

“Thank you.” 

Connor looked out the window as they headed back to the station, absorbing the city.

“You said they were killed with metal wire, right?” Hank asked over the low music.

“Yes. The micro abrasions left behind point to that.”

“I didn’t see any metal wire at Sanchez’s house.”

“I didn’t either. There were also no burn marks on his hands, so it probably wasn’t him.”

“We’ll see.”

*******

That night found them back at Hank’s house as they waited for more information from forensics.

“Let’s go out,” Hank suggested. “I feel like hitting the bar.” 

“We have to work tomorrow,” Connor reminded him.

“And?”

Connor said nothing, but went to Hank’s bedroom and got a change of clothes. He changed in the bathroom, then looked at himself in the mirror. With his beanie hiding his LED, he looked human. Just a dark eyed young man with a strong jawline and a rocker dressing style. He buttoned his wristband and smoothed down the front of his Knights of the Black Death tee shirt, checking his dark jeans for any issues. This pair did not have a chain on it, but Connor didn’t particularly care either way. It was just a small accessory, after all. 

He left the bathroom and walked into the living room, squatting to pet Sumo while he waited on Hank. He loved the adorable dog, and his owner. He wished that getting Hank to love him was as easy as it was with Sumo, but humans were a lot more messy and complicated than dogs. Hank had a lot of baggage, and Connor knew it would probably take a lot of time before Hank saw him as anything more than his “android friend.”

Hank came around the corner and saw Connor petting Sumo. He smiled and leaned against the wall. He could get used to coming home to this, he decided. Connor made life more worth living. He wondered if he would ever be lucky enough to have him as more than a friend. The self-deprecating thoughts kicked in, then, but he waved them away. It was time to get drunk and _not_ ponder who would be lucky enough to end up with Connor.

“Having fun?” Hank asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Connor said, ruffling Sumo’s fur one more time, a smile gracing his lips. He stood and put on his leather jacket, which had been laying across the back of the couch. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” Hank wore his usual outfit, but with a different shirt. It was striped white and blue; fun stripes that zigzagged.

The pair left the house, locking the door behind them. Connor hopped in the passenger seat and waited apprehensively for them to arrive at the bar. He had only been around drunk Hank twice, and once he had been mostly unconscious. He didn’t know what to expect from their night out. 

They parked at Jimmy’s Bar. Hank led the way. Connor looked at the “No Androids Allowed” signs and paused. Hank noticed when he opened the door for Connor. He let it fall closed again. 

“Don’t worry about that. Your LED is hidden and if anyone has anything to say, I’ll shut them up.”

Connor nodded, reassured. He liked that Hank was willing to stand up for him.

Hank opened the door for him again and made a motion with his hand. “After you.”

Connor entered the bar. He went to the seat that he had first met Hank at, and took the one beside it. Hank sat to his right, in that fateful seat.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Connor asked.

“Yeah,” Hank said with a smile and a nod. “You got me a drink for the road. Even paid for it yourself.” The bartender walked up and he turned his attention to him. “Hey, Jimmy. Let me get a few fingers of whiskey on the rocks, and two shots of whatever you feel like tonight.”

Jimmy nodded and did just that. Connor watched in curiosity as the alcohol was poured and served. He stared intently when Hank’s throat bobbed as he downed the shots.

“What for your friend?”

“Oh, he doesn’t drink.”

“He looks the type to drink, but if you say so.” Jimmy looked at Connor. “Want a water?” 

“I’m good, thank you.”

“So polite,” Jimmy teased. “You must be in the wrong place with the wrong person.”

Hank spoke up, indignant. “Hey, we’ve been through too much shit for people to start telling him that now. Don’t run off my best friend.”

Connor ran a quick internet search and found that he was quite happy to have that title. He looked at Hank with a small smile. “I’m your best friend?” 

“Of course.” He took a long sip of whiskey. “Fuck else would you be?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Don’t mind Hank. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s a good person. Known him for years.”

Connor said, “I’m very aware that he is a good person. The difficulty lies in making _him_ understand that.”

Jimmy looked between the two of them.

“Wait, are you Connor? _The_ Connor?”

Hank swallowed so fast he choked for a second. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he said, pointing at Jimmy and gasping for air. 

Jimmy put his hands up defensively, then turned around and grabbed the whiskey bottle. He refilled Hank’s glass. “On the house.”

*******

Later that night, Connor ended up being the designated driver. Hank was so drunk that he had to help him to the car, and even then, getting his seatbelt on was an adventure and a half. 

They stumbled through the front door, Hank going on about things that Connor was only half listening to. Mostly he was pre constructing their steps to make sure Hank didn’t end up falling, or taking both of them down to the floor. Connor might have been a machine, but Hank was a big man.

As gently as he could, Connor deposited him on the couch.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Hank said, staring at him in awe as he wavered back and forth. 

Connor rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling himself blush.

“Look at you,” Hank slurred. “Blushing at me and shit. I wonder how blue those cheeks can get.”

Connor’s blush intensified. He didn’t really know how to deal with this situation. Hank was being very forward, but he had never said anything sober. Alcohol was known to make humans find each other more attractive in the moment, however. Perhaps that was what was happening?

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hank slurred, pulling Connor down to the couch beside him. Before Connor could analyze anything, one of Hank’s arms was behind him and the other was across his waist. “So pretty. So smart.” Hank said, laying his head on Connor’s shoulder. He yawned. “Sexy clothes. Great guy. Wish you were mine.” He kissed Connor’s cheek.

“Is this just because you’re drunk?” Connor asked, inquisitive. 

Hank shook his head. “Nope. Think ‘bout ya all the time.”

Without any warning, Hank passed out, and Connor was left to process what he just heard. 

Evidently, Hank had _feelings_ for him. Reciprocal ones, if drunk Hank was to be believed. He wondered how Hank would react in the morning. Would he stand by his statements? Or would he not even remember the interaction? Connor shifted so Hank was laying (hopefully) more comfortably on him. 

Connor stayed that way until 7am, when he woke up Hank for work. 

“Hank, you need to get up,” Connor said, tapping his shoulder. “Hank.”

Hank jerked. “The fuck are you doin’ here?” He asked sleepily. His eyes shot open when he realized how they were sitting. “Fuck, I fell asleep on you?”

“Yes. It was no problem, you-“

Hank was instantly moving. He stood up too fast and wavered for a moment before finding his balance again. He rubbed his neck. “Goddamn my neck. You should’ve woke me up,” Hank said accusingly. He might have begun to say something else, but he lurched and quickly ran for the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before puking. 

Concerned, Connor followed him. He got on his knees beside Hank and held his hair back while he heaved into the toilet. 

Hank didn’t even have the strength of character to tell him not to. It felt nice to be cared for, especially by Connor. God, he had fallen asleep on the boy’s _shoulder._ What the hell else happened last night? All he had were blurry memories of the bar, some flashes of the car, and then nothing. He decided he wasn’t getting drunk around Connor anymore. He couldn’t trust himself. 

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly as he fell back onto his ass. Connor didn’t respond beyond letting go of Hank’s hair. Hank finally got a good look at Connor.

“Did I say anything last night?”

“You said a lot of things. Which part, exactly?”

 _The parts that I can’t remember,_ Hank thought. “I don’t know. Nevermind.”

Connor nodded. “I should get changed for work.”

Hank rubbed his forehead. “Right. Work. I need a shower.”

Once Connor left the bathroom, Hank showered, got dressed, and even trimmed his beard. He found himself actually caring about his appearance for once. Mentally, he made a note to get his hair trimmed soon. It was getting long, even for him. With a sigh, he pulled it back into a ponytail.

An hour after he had begun, he met Connor in the living room. 

Connor froze when he saw Hank with his hair up. He analyzed it, noting the exact length of his bangs. Connor decided that he absolutely enjoyed seeing it this way. 

“Are you broken?” Hank asked, waving his hand in front of Connor’s face. The android had been motionless and non-responsive for a full ten seconds. Connor jerked, suddenly seeming to come back to life. 

“No, I'm fine. Let’s go.”

They made their way to the station to begin another day. As they sat in silence, Hank had a feeling that he had said more than he should have the night before. Connor normally would have said something by now about the lack of music. What had he been thinking, getting fucked up around Connor? He sighed, unaware that Connor had been admiring his hair from the passenger seat, and that was why he had been so quiet.

“Look, I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t be,” Connor replied instantly. “It was… educational.”

“I fell asleep on you. That isn’t cool.”

“Why isn’t it?”

Hank sighed and turned into the station’s parking lot. “Because you’re in love with someone, Connor. You don’t let people sleep on you when you’re in love with someone.”

Connor was silent until Hank had found a spot, parked, and turned off the ignition.

“They wouldn’t mind,” he finally said.

“Who is it?” Hank asked, burning internally. As far as he knew, Connor had not contacted anyone since moving in with him. It seemed odd, to say the least.

“It doesn’t matter,” Connor said, pulling out his coin and beginning to play with it. 

“The hell it doesn’t.”

Connor looked at him. “You know them, but not as well as you think.”

“What does that mean?” Hank asked, mildly affronted. “Is that some fuckin’ riddle?”

A small grin curled Connor’s lips. “Yes.”

“Why won’t you tell me who it is?”

Connor sighed, gripping his coin tightly. “They may not feel the same for me. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Well you haven’t talked to anyone while you’ve been with me. Shouldn’t you check on them, now that the revolution is over?”

Connor smiled fully. “They’re doing well.”

Hank huffed. “Whatever.” He got out of the car and made his way into the station, mentally cursing Connor for being so damn evasive.

Connor watched him go, slowly getting out of the car. He hoped beyond hope that he and Hank could be honest with each other soon. Borderline lying to Hank was not something that he enjoyed doing, but he was _scared_ to risk their friendship over feelings that may not be returned. Being deviant was turning out to be more difficult than he had expected.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a blast writing this. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. It All Started With a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor arrives, and a twist in their case gets someone gets shot; but who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have art!!! Massive shoutout to GoeldiCotton for drawing Connor in his rocker outfit! Thank you so much again!! <3 https://hannorhankconhanconidk.tumblr.com/post/640460900126654464/love-this-outfit-if-you-like-connor-in-this

*******

A week passed in relative normalcy. Connor and Hank were at work by eight in the morning, leaving around five in the evening. They hadn’t progressed much on their case, but they did have a lead.

It was around seven on a particularly foggy night that a knock sounded on the door.

“Hank, can you get that?” Connor called, fully occupied with the stir fry he was cooking. 

“Yeah, one sec!” 

Hank came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of gym shorts and an old, faded Detroit PD shirt. He was rubbing his hair with a towel when he came around the corner. He then went to the door and looked through the peephole.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself. 

He unlocked and opened the door, towel still in hand.

“Can I help you?” He asked brusquely, hair disheveled. 

Markus looked past him into the house. 

“I’m looking for Connor. Is he here?”

“Maybe. What’s it to ya?”

Markus’s mismatched eyes finally met Hank’s, eyeing his hair for a split second.

“I need to talk to him.”

Hank crossed his arms. “About what?”

“We’re renovating an old apartment building for androids. I was hoping he could help.”

“He already has a job.”

Markus nodded. “I heard about that. But I thought he might be free at night.”

Connor’s voice called from the kitchen, “Who is it?”

“Markus,” Hank replied loudly. 

“Let him in!”

Hank stood to the side and did just that. Markus looked around as he came in, admiring the decor. He spared a few moments to pet Sumo, who came trotting up to investigate.

“You have a nice home.”

“Thanks.”

Hank went back to the bathroom and Markus made his way into the kitchen, coming to a stop by the table. “What are you doing?” He asked, amused.

“Cooking,” Connor said, ignoring his pan and pulling a plate down from the cabinet. 

“What for? Does he make you?”

Connor shook his head as he added a fork to the side of the plate. “No. His nutrition is terrible, and I’m fixing that. Humans are much more delicate than we are.”

Markus knew all too well that the latter part was true. He remembered cooking for Carl and had a small, brief smile. 

“You care about him.” Markus stated.

“Yes.” Connor didn’t even bother denying it.

“You seem at home, here,” Markus commented. 

“I am,” he said as he stirred the stir fry. It hissed and popped as he did so, making him glad he had on an old shirt of Hank’s. Markus had noticed the oversized shirt, but didn’t comment. “Why have you come?”

“We’re renovating an old apartment building downtown to serve as a home for androids. I was wondering if you would like to help us.”

Connor hesitated. He pulled the stir fry off the heat and turned off the burner. He turned to face Markus and leaned against the counter in a very human-like pose. “Maybe. What do you need?”

“Mostly we need help with minor construction and, for the finished units, moving furniture. You can choose when you come and go. It’s completely voluntary.”

“I will help,” Connor decided. He loaded some of the stir fry onto a spatula and began transferring it to Hank’s plate. He set the plate on the table and looked to Markus. “Where is it?” 

Markus held out his arm, the skin flowing back from his hand and wrist, leaving pure white plastic in its wake. Connor did the same and their hands connected, palm to palm. 

Just as Markus shared the location, Hank came around the corner, his grey hair pulled up in a short ponytail. “What the hell?”

Connor’s head turned sharply to look at him. Markus gasped and pulled his hand away, looking between Hank and Connor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see that,” he apologized, clearly meaning it.

“See what?” Hank asked, confused, crossing his arms.

“You,” Markus said simply. “Does he know?” He asked Connor.

“You need to get going,” Connor said, herding Markus towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, around midnight.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Markus said as he crossed the threshold.

“Not a problem.” 

Then the door was closed, and Connor was left alone with Hank and Sumo again. 

“What was he on about?” Hank asked, getting milk out of the fridge. He poured himself a glass.

“Nothing,” Connor lied. 

“Are you going to help them?” Hank asked, sitting down for dinner.

“Yes.”

*******

The next day at work, they followed up on their lead. It took them to the shit side of town again, but this time, to the nicest house on the block. 

“Michael Clearwater,” Connor read from his tablet. “Clean record except for a possession charge in 2029. He was not convicted.”

Hank nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“Let’s see what he knows.”

They got out of the car. Hank followed Connor up to the door, admiring his ass in the black slacks he wore. The black blazer cut just above it, and Hank decided it was definitely money well spent. 

They reached the porch and Connor knocked on the front door three times. 

A female android opened the door. She did not wear a uniform, but instead, a pair of plain blue jeans with a ruffled white shirt.

“Can I help you?” 

Hank flashed his badge. “We’re here to ask Mister Clearwater some questions. Is he home?”

She nodded and opened the door. “Yes. He is upstairs.”

They climbed the staircase that started just a ways in front of the door. To the right was a door that the android led them through. Inside was a man laying in his bed, hooked up to many tubes and a machine that whirled.

Hank flashed his badge. “Michael Clearwater? We’re here to ask some questions about Luke.”

The man sighed. “Of course you are. That boy couldn’t stay out of trouble to save his life, literally. How may I be of assistance?”

Hank pulled out his notepad and pen. “Do you know where he was during his last night?”

The man nodded. “Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

The man eyed the machine he was hooked up to. “You know, I never thought I’d die like this. Mary always used to tell me drinking would kill me, but I never really believed her.” He eyed Hank. “Do you drink?”

“Yes.”

“This shit isn’t worth it. Trust me.”

Hank shifted uncomfortably. 

“Where was Luke the night he died?” he asked, trying to turn the conversation back to the case.

“Ah, right. Luke. He was going to a warehouse on 87th. That’s where they keep all their red ice.”

Hank’s eyebrows shot up as he scribbled on the notepad. “Do they have any guards?”

“Of course,” the man snorted. “You should know how kingpins are. This is gang shit. But you take down that warehouse, half the city’s dealers lose supply.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Connor asked, curious.

The man looked at him and shrugged. “I’m dying anyways. Might as well take those fuckers down while I do it. What are they gonna do, kill me? Besides. That shit killed my nephew. Changed who he was until I didn’t even recognize him anymore. Fuck them all.”

Hank got more details from the man as Connor observed, learning. It wasn’t long before Hank had found out all the man knew. 

They got back into Hank’s car. Hank started it but paused, looking out the window.

“I don’t want to die like that,” he said suddenly.

“Then you’ll have to quit drinking,” Connor said logically.

“You don’t understand,” Hank said as he shifted the car into drive. “You don’t just…  _ quit  _ after how long I’ve been drinking.”

“Your body is addicted, you mean.”

“Yeah. The fact that I didn’t drink last night is incredible, honestly.”

They made their way back to precinct. Connor had begun informing Hank of all the pluses of quitting drinking, but Hank had shut him up pretty early on, not wanting to hear it.

*******

As soon as they were back in the station, they went straight to Captain Fowler’s office.

“We got a hit. Our murder vic’s uncle told us about a major warehouse keeping half the city’s red ice. All we need is a warrant.”

Fowler looked over his notes before sighing and leaning back in his chair, entwining his fingers over his chest.

“I need more than this, Hank.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“I wish I wasn’t. One eyewitness isn’t enough to give the go ahead on a full raid or no-knock warrant.”

“Fuck,” Hank cursed. He left the office. Connor nodded to Fowler then followed him to their desks.

After a while of typing, Connor suddenly looked up. He had noticed that Hank was backspacing a lot, going by the noise of his keyboard. He analyzed him and found a slight tremor in his hands. He debated mentioning it, but felt that it was better left unsaid. Instead, he decided to tell him what he had found.

“Hank. If this is the correct address, this warehouse is owned by the city.”

A slow smile spread across Hank’s lips. “So what you’re saying is, it isn’t private property.”

“Correct.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

*******

They approached the warehouse from the back, stealthily hiding behind large crates as they approached. There was a single lookout by the bay door that they needed to neutralize. Hank had his gun drawn just in case, but Connor kept his sheathed. He needed silence, discretion. He couldn’t get that with gunfire. 

Once they had got about ten paces from the guard, Connor spotted a rock. He threw it and it bounced off the fence far to the guard’s left. The guard looked up from his phone and pulled out his gun, making his way slowly toward the noise.

Conner saw his opportunity and took it. He ran forward, grabbing the man in a chokehold and dragging him toward a nearby crate. Once he stopped struggling and fell unconscious, Connor let him go and dropped him. He took his keycard and gun, tossing the gun over the fence just in case. Body successfully hidden, he adjusted his sleeve cuffs and walked back to Hank.

Hank nodded to him once, an approving grin on his face. Connor gave him a self-satisfied smirk and walked over to the card reader. He swiped it, and they were in.

The warehouse was dark and dim. They could see three men sitting at a table on a raised platform by the front of the warehouse. They seemed to be playing cards, and the occasional noise of a bottle clinking could be heard. 

Hank and Connor hid behind large crates as they advanced through the warehouse, careful to avoid the many pipes that were strewn about. They checked the crates periodically, but found nothing. It appeared as though they were waiting to be filled with product.

They crept closer to the men, trying to remain as quiet as possible. They spotted another two guards by the front bay door, but they seemed to be completely entranced in whatever was on their phone screens.

Finally, after checking nearly a dozen crates, they found what they were looking for. A crate completely filled with bricks of red ice, the packaging clear so as to showcase its contents.

Hank pulled out his phone and took a few pictures of the red ice, the crate, and the inside of the warehouse. Connor kept a close eye on the men as he did so, ready to take action if necessary. 

He felt a tap on the shoulder, and Hank was beckoning him with a smile. He had all the evidence he needed. 

They made their way back through the warehouse carefully. 

About halfway to the door, Hank got hit by a sudden wave of nausea, causing him to stumble. He knocked over a pipe, sending a loud ringing noise throughout the warehouse. 

“What the fuck was that?” Someone yelled.

“Shit,” Hank muttered.

There were quick footsteps, and then a man came around the corner of their hiding spot. Instantly Connor was on him. He kicked his knee, making him fall, then punched him so hard in the face that his nose exploded in a shower of blood as he was instantly knocked out. 

Another man came around the other side of the crate, gun trained on Connor. 

Hank rushed him and a gunshot went off. 

They struggled for the gun. He could hear Connor fighting the other men, taking them down one by one, and wished not for the first time that he was still young. With a mighty tug he jerked the gun away from the gangster and pistol-whipped him, sending him crumpling to the ground. Connor was finishing up with the last guard, kneeing him in face and sending him motionless to the ground. Hank admired his handiwork.

“Are any of them dead?” He asked, panting.

“No,” Connor replied calmly, his white button down splattered with bright red blood. Then his eyes registered Hank’s shirt. “You’ve been shot!” He said, immediately coming to his side and trying to put pressure on the wound.

Hank hissed in pain and pushed him away. “We gotta get outta here. Come on.”

They ran for the exit, no need for stealth any longer. Once they were in the car, Hank made his way to the hospital.

“He was going to shoot me, not you,” Connor said as they drove.

“I know,” Hank said, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. 

“I had a forty-one percent chance of survival.”

“Well that’s sure as shit not good enough for me.” 

Before Connor could respond, Hank pulled out his phone and dialed his boss. 

“Did you get the pictures I sent? Good. Move fast or they’ll be gone. Right now all the guards are unconscious.” There was a pause. “No, I didn’t fuckin’ kill them Jeffery. They caught us in there.” Another pause. “The warehouse is city property. I did my research, don’t worry. Didn’t break any laws.” Another pause. “Thanks.” They talked for the rest of the ride. When the hospital was in sight, he hung up the phone.

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and Hank got out by the emergency room. 

“Park the car and um, do whatever. Or you can just go home, I’ll take a taxi. Whatever you want.” Then he was walking into the building, and Connor was left to do exactly as he had said.

Except Connor didn’t go home. He parked the car and headed for the entrance of the emergency room, where he had seen Hank disappear. He made his way into the sterile smelling building, finding that he didn’t care much for it. Dozens of people were sitting around in chairs, waiting to be seen. After a quick scan of the room, he found that Hank was not among them. 

He got in line and waited. When it was his turn, the receptionist’s eyes widened at the blood on his shirt. Connor asked after Hank, uncaring for his own appearance.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot give out any patient information. The android waiting area is over there.”

Connor frowned, frustrated. He pulled out his badge and showed it to the man. “I’m his partner. I just want to join him. I don’t want any information.”

The receptionist looked at his coworker, unsure. He called for a supervisor. Connor stood to the side so the next patient could be spoken to.

Connor waited impatiently, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers on his arm as he waited for exactly thirty-two minutes and fifty seven seconds. He was worried about Hank. There was only a twenty-six percent chance that the wound could be fatal, but what if it was? What if it had torn a muscle and Hank would never be able to use that arm the same again? What if he never forgave Connor? What if -

His racing thoughts were cut short by a balding man in a white lab coat coming forward. “Connor Anderson?” He asked the room.

Connor uncrossed his arms and looked around. No one was coming forward. That must mean -

“That’s me,” Connor said, walking forward. The doctor did a double take when he noticed Connor’s yellow LED and bloodstained shirt, but did not mention them. Instead he beckoned him forward.

“Come with me. Your…” he trailed off, unsure of what Connor was to his patient. “...has already had the bullet removed, and is recovering.”

Connor was led to a hospital room where Hank was waiting, laying in a bed hooked up to monitors that measured his heart rate and blood pressure. His heart rate increased when Connor entered the room and he cussed the machine under his breath. 

“How are you feeling?” Connor asked. 

“Fine. Can I fuckin’ go now?” Hank asked the doctor behind Connor.

“We have to finish looking at your scans to rule out any internal bleeding. Once you’re clear we’ll let you know.” The doctor left, leaving Connor and Hank alone.

“Fuckin’ doctors,” Hank cursed. “I hate hospitals.”

Connor said nothing and took the seat beside the bed. He moved it closer so that Hank was within reach and leaned forward, hands steepled. They sat in silence for a couple minutes before he met Hank’s eyes.

“Why did you take that shot for me?”

Hank looked at him. Looked at those big brown eyes, that soft brown hair and smooth pale skin. The face that he had come to trust, to adore. The face that showed far more expressions than his programming had ever accounted for. The face that greeted him with breakfast in the morning, dinner in the evening, and gently encouraged him to quit drinking every damn day. 

Connor’s eyes momentarily flicked up to his monitor when it quietly began beeping faster.

“You’re my partner, and I fucked up,” Hank said with a sigh, looking away. “I felt sick. Probably from not drinking. I wasn’t going to let you die for it.”

“But you could have died,” Connor insisted. “You can’t ever do that again.”

“The hell I can’t,” Hank said, getting heated. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Your life matters more than mine.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t understand,” Connor said insistently, becoming aggravated. “You could have  _ died  _ in that warehouse. You could have bled out. You could have-“

Hank stopped him, pissed. “Yeah, I could have! And I’d rather it be me than have to watch you bleed blue all over everyfuckinthing again!”

Just as Connor was about to reply, there was a knock on the door. A dark haired nurse stood there, looking nervous.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ve been cleared to go home. Light work duty only.” She came forward and went to hand Hank some papers, but Connor stood and took them instead. “You’re free to go,” she said to Hank, eyeing Connor curiously.

“Thank fuck,” Hank said, getting up. He walked over to his clothes and crossed his arms, looking at Connor, who was still watching him. “Can a man get some privacy?” 

Connor nodded and left the room, waiting outside the door.

They made the long walk to the car. Once, Connor tried to say something, but was stopped by Hank telling him in no uncertain terms to “shut the fuck up.”

He stewed all the way home, becoming angrier the more he thought about it all. How could Hank have been so  _ stupid?  _ Connor could have taken the shot, it was meant for him after all. How could he just step in front of a gun like that? Connor felt like his suicidal tendencies were getting out of hand.

They finally reached the house. Connor slammed his car door when he got out and marched up to the front door.

They were barely in the house when Connor shouted, “You should have let me get shot, Lieutenant!”

Hank spun around.

“Oh, so now I’m back to Lieutenant? You’ve got to be fucking joking. I saved your life, and this is my thanks?” He pointed at Connor. “You know what? Fuck you, Connor.” He walked into the kitchen and Connor followed him.

“You got shot!” Connor said loudly, insistently. There was anger in his voice and his face was upset, brows drawn tightly.

“In the shoulder! And I’m fine!” Hank yelled back, spinning around and throwing out his arms for effect, wincing only slightly at the pull in his shoulder. “See? No problems here!” He roughly pointed at Connor again. “Except for your shitty fucking attitude! You’d think I’d be getting some thanks! Gratitude, even! But  _ no _ , Connor’s pissed because I kept him from getting his fuckin’ head blown off!”

“You could have died!” Connor yelled. A status warning popped up in the edge of his vision  **WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 53%** but he ignored and dismissed it. “I can be brought back, but you can’t!”

“No you can’t!” Hank disagreed angrily, stepping forward. He was almost in Connor’s space. “Not since the revolution! And you sure as fuck can’t be replaced with some volunteer either!” 

He made for the refrigerator, and the beer that lay within. Connor stopped him, forcing the door closed.

“What does it matter?” Connor asked heatedly, volume still increased. Another notification popped up in his field of view.  **WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 60%.** He dismissed the notification instantly. In his anger he shouted, “I’m just another ‘fucking machine’ to you, right? What does it matter to you if I live or die?”

“Oh, you fucking asshole,” Hank growled, grabbing Connor by the shirt and pushing him roughly against the wall beside the refrigerator. “You are so much more than a fucking machine and you know it.”

“What does it matter?” Connor asked with an eye roll, stress levels paradoxically alternating between increasing and decreasing from how  _ close  _ Hank was to him. He looked up at Hank with hard brown eyes, confusion evident even in his irritated expression. “I  _ want  _ to know why it matters!”

Hank looked at him like he’s a fucking idiot. “Because  _ you  _ matter!”

“I beg to differ.” Connor said logically. “Statistically, the chance that one android’s death would strongly impact the world-”

Hank pushed him against the wall harder. “Fuck the world,” he growled.

A lightbulb went off in Connor’s expression and his stress levels decreased by thirty percent. 

“Oh. I see. It is about  _ your  _ world, then. Or your perspective on it.”

“Nice observation.” Hank said sardonically.

“Still. If you wanted another partner, the force would gladly give you one to train. Someone with your experience and case closure rate would be an ideal mentor, despite your many behavior write-ups.”

“You aren’t getting it.” Hank said flatly. 

He pushed off of Connor and walked away to the table, where he unscrewed the lid of his bottle of whiskey. Just as he began to tip it to pour it into the glass that waited at the ready, a strong grip encompassed his wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make him think twice about pulling against it.

“The fuck do you want?” Hank asked angrily.

“For you to talk to me.” Connor said, frustration evident in his voice. He was finding it impossible to conduct himself in any sort of professional manner tonight. The full range of emotions he had been experiencing recently were new to him, and anger was the one that he found himself most unable to control.

“Fuck do you want me to say?” Hank asked, getting loud again. He pulled his wrist downward and Connor let him. He slammed the glass bottle of whiskey on the table, creating a loud  _ bang  _ on impact. “Fuck do you care if I drink, anyways? Oh, right, I’m supposed to believe that you care about my  _ health. _ ”

“I do!” Connor insisted. “I want as many years with you as possible, and  _ you  _ are making that difficult!”

“Says the man who nearly got his brains all over a fuckin’ drug den today because of  _ my  _ fuck up!”

“Exactly! You got shot! Why did you defend me?!”

Without thinking Hank gripped Connor’s shirt in his hands and shook him, shouting, “Because I fucking need you!”

Time seemed to stop, if only for a moment.

The room was silent, except for the TV quietly playing some news program in the background and the sound of Sumo chewing on one of his toys. They stared at each other, and Hank slowly realized what he had said. Confessed, really.

_ You stupid fuck,  _ Hank thought to himself.  _ Why even fucking admit… well, maybe he won’t get it. He hasn’t been deviant for that long… _

Hank turned away from Connor and picked up his bottle. Within moments, inhumanly strong fingers encompassed his and made him put the bottle back down again.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting off on this, but I need-“ He cut off as Connor turned him around quickly. Before Hank could even register the shorter man in his line of sight, Connor was a hair’s breadth away. Warm brown eyes stared up into his blue ones, inquisitive.

“Tell me, detective,” Connor said quietly. “How exactly do you need me?”

“I-“ Hank stuttered, mouth hanging open. He was highly aware that Connor was too close and hadn’t let go of his shoulder. 

Connor leaned in even closer and analyzed Hank. Heartbeat was at one hundred and twelve, a definite increase from when he had been about to pour the liquor. His eyes kept flicking down to Connor’s lips, and his pupils were dilated to nearly the maximum a human could achieve. Connor’s nose detected that pheromones were coming off of him in waves. This meant that Hank  _ liked _ what he saw, and what he saw was unmistakably  _ Connor.  _ The android felt a rush of what he identified as satisfaction run through him at the realization.

“Would you believe me if I told you I need you, too?” Connor asked intently.

Hank scoffed and took a step back. His earlier anger was mostly forgotten in the face of self-depreciation and trying to reign in the hard-on that his body seemed insistent on providing for him.

“There’s a whole world of humans and androids to choose from, Connor. Don’t waste your life on me.”

A thought struck Hank. He whistled once and Sumo came running. He let the dog out the back door and shut it again.

“Why?” Connor asked.

“Because I’m… I’m…” he trailed off as Connor came close again. 

“Everything I want.” Connor finished for him. Without pause, the deviant android gripped him in a tight hug. Slowly, Hank let himself hug him back. He couldn’t believe this shit was happening, but he quite literally embraced it. In his ear, Connor said quietly, “Everything I need.” 

Hank let out a massive sigh and gripped him tighter. There were a million reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this. Hell, there wasn’t even a single way Hank could justify this to  _ himself… _ besides one reason. Simply put, despite his drinking and occasional suicidal tendencies, part of Hank still wanted to be  _ happy.  _ That didn’t mean he was going to let Connor throw away the world for him, though.

He pulled away from Connor but refused to meet his eyes, instead staring to the side and at the floor. 

“Look, I get you think you feel this way. But I’m not worth it, Conner. I’m really not. So just… forget about it.” It killed him to say it, but it had to be said. “Get out. Go out and meet someone tonight. Let me drink in peace.”  _ So I won’t be awake to wonder about who gets to fuck the android I - _

“Hank. I know what I feel,” Connor said determinedly, interrupting Hank’s train of thought. “I didn’t go deviant because of the revolution, or because of feeling that android’s death on top of the tower. I started to go deviant the moment I chose to listen to you and not chase those two girls across the freeway. When I saved your life instead of pursuing that deviant the day we raced across the trains. I decided that your life and preferences mattered more than my programming.  _ I. Decided. _ And I decided a very long time ago.”

Hank still refused to look at him. The lieutenant decided to do something he didn’t do often to Connor: he lied.

“I don’t want you the way you want me.” It felt false even to Hank’s own ears and he did his best to not cringe, but he did anyways. It was very slight, but Connor was an android designed to catch even minute human expressions, so he saw right through him.

“You’re lying,” Connor said with surety. “Stop lying. Be free, Hank. Even androids are free, now. Why can’t you let yourself be free too?”

Hank eyed him, then heard scratching. He opened the door to let Sumo back in, then moved past Connor to the fridge to get a beer. 

“You deserve better.”

“As you often say, Hank: Bullshit.”

Hank popped the top of the beer against the counter top. When he turned around, he jumped in surprise. Connor was nearly against him. One of the android’s hands was immediately over his on the beer bottle, the other bracketing Hank. Hank braced himself against the counter with his free hand.

“Fuck, I forget how fast you are sometimes.”

At a nudge of pressure, Hank sighed and sat the beer bottle down. 

Before he could register what was happening, Connor’s lips were on his. They were soft, softer than he had ever imagined them to be, and nothing about them seemed plastic. Hank couldn’t stop himself; he kissed him back, moving his lips against Connor’s in a slow drag that the intelligent android copied almost immediately. Hank gripped Connor by his slim hips and pulled him flush against him. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it  _ right.  _

Connor made a small noise and Hank’s grip tightened. He questioningly ran his tongue along Connor’s lower lip, asking for entrance. Connor made another noise and obliged, lips parting as his hand found his way into Hank’s hair. Hank grunted as he tasted Connor for the first time. He tasted metallic, almost like blood, but with a sweet tint to it. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he decided that he certainly liked it. He licked Connor’s tongue and then spun his own around it twice before laving the underside. Connor’s hips bucked and he  _ moaned  _ into his mouth, the noise going straight to Hank’s cock. There was a welcome hardness pressing against Hank’s hip, and he spared a brief moment mentally to thank Cyberlife for giving Connor a dick. 

Hank’s hands slid from Connor’s hips to grab his ass as the android began exploring Hank’s mouth, hunting for what he liked. Hank gripped those firm cheeks and massaged them, pulling another noise from Connor. Hank then rolled his hips against Connor’s, their dicks pressing together through their clothes. Connor moaned again and broke the kiss, forehead resting against Hank’s.

_ “Hank,”  _ he breathed, tongue dashing out to taste Hank’s lips. 

Slowly, Hank repeated the hip motion. Connor made another delicious noise, his forehead slipping to Hank’s good shoulder as he ground back gently. 

“I’ve wanted this for - so long,” Hank said lowly into Connor’s ear, his voice practically a growl. “You’re so much better than I imagined. So responsive, so sexy.”

“You make me feel  _ alive, _ ” Connor whispered. “Everything you do, I can’t - there’s so much.”

Hank kissed his temple gently, right on his LED. His hands left Connor’s ass, one coming around to rub circles on his hip, the other to cup his cheek, fingertips ending behind Connor’s ear. 

“We can slow down. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Connor raised his head. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks lightly flushed with blue.

“But I want you. I just don’t know how to - to -” he stuttered, unable to finish his sentence at seeing Hank so disheveled, cheeks pink and pupils wide with only a moderately thin ring of light blue around the edge. Hank’s pulse was elevated, his grey hair a bit of a mess from Connor’s attentions. “You want me,” Connor said with a smile, surprised. “You really do.”

Hank cupped his face in both hands and kissed him gently, pulling back and nuzzling Connor’s nose with his own.

“I do.” Sensing that Connor was overwhelmed, he pushed against him lightly so he wasn’t trapped against the counter anymore. “Let’s get changed. I need a shower.”

They went to Hank’s room and picked out their sleep clothes; Hank chose his grey sweatpants and old metal shirt, Connor in his own sweatpants with one of his newer shirts. Connor didn’t even bother going to the bathroom to change and Hank about had a heart attack when he looked over and saw Connor’s naked back. Even there, freckles could be seen. He quickly turned his own way and changed, not wanting to invade Connor’s privacy before he was ready. 

Once showered and changed, Hank grabbed a pillow off of the bed and took Connor’s hand where he waited on the edge of the bed, leading him to the couch. He grabbed the TV remote, then settled on the couch with his legs spread. He put the pillow between him and the arm of the couch for comfort. 

When Connor looked at him inquisitively, head tilted slightly to the left, Hank patted his lap. 

“Come here.”

Connor carefully maneuvered into the space, nervous. He didn’t want to hurt Hank. Once his back was to Hank’s chest, the older man’s arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him close. Connor put his arms under Hank’s and laid his head against Hank’s good shoulder. Without knowing why beyond the simple desire to do so, Connor tilted his head up and kissed Hank’s jaw. 

Hank smiled and entwined their fingers as he kissed the top of Connor’s head, his smile widening when he smelt his own shampoo. Despite their exciting day, the smell hadn’t faded. 

Turning on the TV, his grip around Connor tightened when the news displayed a headline about androids. 

They watched it together, learning that Android Rights cases were already hitting the courts. Hank sighed, relieved that it wasn’t anything bad, and changed the channel to some superhero movie. They watched it, Hank eventually slipping off into sleep. 

Connor laid there silently, enjoying the quiet night. He replayed the memories of the night over and over, happy that he could finally call Hank  _ his.  _

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand our boys are finally together! What did you think of the chapter? Let me know in the comments! :) This is a WIP so any suggestions or requests are welcome!


	4. Followed by a Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up!

The next morning, Hank woke up shaking. Not shaking as in a light shiver from being cold, but full on withdrawal shakes. 

Connor was no longer in his lap and his head whipped around dizzily, trying to find him. Had he imagined the night before? Them kissing in their blood stained clothes in the kitchen? Falling asleep together on the couch?

Hank felt severely nauseous. He violently dry heaved, gagging loud enough to be heard throughout the house.

“Connor,” he managed, pulling himself up so his upper body was vertical but the rest of him still laid on the couch. He continued to shake violently. “Connor!” He yelled when there was no response. 

Within seconds the backdoor opened and Connor walked in. Hank could hear Sumo’s steps as well. Immediately, Connor was there with a small, clean trash can and a glass of water. He sat on the edge of the couch by Hank’s waist.

Hank grabbed the trash can with unsteady hands and puked bile into it.

“I don’t want to ask this. But do you want a drink?” Connor asked, hesitant.

“Fuck no,” Hank said. “You almost died because I-” he puked up more bile. “-was goin’ through withdrawal yesterday. Shoulda never fucked up like that.” 

Connor’s head tilted. “I’m... proud, that you’re choosing sobriety. It is a hard road, but it will be better for you in the long run, as they say.”

Hank stared at the bottom of the can, pride too wounded to look Connor in the eye. “Me quitting… this is ugly. You might want to go somewhere else for a few days. There’s some bunks at the station you could use.”

Connor studied his profile as he dry heaved yet again. “Common withdrawal symptoms are shaking, nausea, headache, sweating, anxiety-” 

Hank cut him off with a wave. “Yeah, I know, ya damn walking encyclopedia.”

Connor continued seamlessly, completely unfazed. “In severe cases, hallucinations and seizures may occur. With the amount you drink and the current duration, you should not be left alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you will, because I’ll be there.”

Hank finally looked at him, feeling like shit but still trying to not get emotional. “Connor…”

Connor put his hand on Hank’s waist and rubbed soothingly. “Yes, Hank?”

“...Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

Connor took a moment to send a message to Markus, his LED pulsing yellow. 

_ I won’t be able to start for another week or so. Something personal has come up.  _

His LED swirled yellow again when Markus replied swiftly.

_ Not a problem. Just come when you can. We appreciate the help. _

“Ugh.” Hank said, breaking out in a sweat. “I can’t work like this. Can you go to the station and get some paperwork? Might give me something to do.”

Connor nodded and stood. He hesitated. An analysis showed that Hank’s heartbeat was eighty-two, slightly above average but understandable given his condition. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, now go before I change my mind.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and Connor left, sparing only a moment to kiss Hank’s cheek. Hank was floored at the affection, but was too surprised to say anything.

Finally alone again, Hank curled up into a ball. He put the trash can down and  _ shook _ . 

He hated that Connor saw him like this. Weak. Sick from his addiction. Unable to even go to work. It was a blow to his ego. He was grateful that Connor cared enough to help him through this, but that didn’t mean Hank wanted him to see it. He grit his teeth and waited for Connor to come back in silence, occasionally puking or briefly petting a concerned Sumo.

*******

Connor stepped out of Hank’s car and locked the doors behind him. He walked up to the station, giving a nod to a few of the humans who nodded to him in recognition. So far, he was about seventy-two percent accepted by the staff, the majority of those being neutral about his presence. He scanned his keycard to go into the back, where the detectives’ desks were. 

When he reached Hank’s desk, he pulled a tablet out of the top drawer. Touching both the tablet screen and the computer screen, he synched the two. One he was satisfied that all of Hank’s paperwork was downloaded, he made his way to his boss’s office.

“How can I help you, Connor?”

“Hank won’t be in today. He is currently going through alcohol detox, and his withdrawal symptoms are too severe to allow him to work. He may be out for the rest of the week. I will monitor him and let you know in the morning.”

“Straight to the point, huh? Well, it’s good that he’s finally quitting. Shit’s been killing him for years.”

Connor nodded in agreement. “It was a hard decision, but I have faith that he will follow through.”

Fowler’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Faith? Odd thing for an android to say.”

Connor didn’t know what to say besides, “I have faith in Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Just for this?” Fowler pried. 

“In all things,” Connor answered truthfully without any consideration to how it sounded.

Fowler leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers. “Is that so. What is the nature of your relationship with the Lieutenant?”

“Not that it is any of your business, but he is my… friend.” They hadn’t discussed labels yet, so technically it wasn’t a lie. 

Fowler noted the pause, but he did not acknowledge it. He barked a laugh. “I see Hank’s rubbing off on you. I was just curious. He’s an old friend of mine. Go on then, get back to him. I don’t expect you to work without him.” 

Connor nodded. “Thank you for understanding, Captain.” He then made his way out of the office and through the rows of desks.

“Where’s your  _ partner?”  _ Gavin asked as Connor came around a desk, stepping in front of him and blocking his path. “Too drunk to come to work?”

Without thinking, Connor’s hand shot out and found its way around Gavin’s neck. 

“Today is not the day to test me.” He leveled him with a stare that made Gavin swallow in fear, though his face remained mostly cocky. He had to look good, after all. “Hank is sick. That’s all.” Connor dropped his hand and pushed past Gavin.

As he began walking away, Gavin said, “Yeah, sick from all that liquor he drank last night.”

Connor turned slowly and tilted his head to the side, walking forward as a predator might walk toward its prey. An unfriendly smile was on his face, and his lean body reeked of lithe strength. 

“Keep talking.” 

It was simple, short, and to the point.

For the first time in his life, Gavin wisely shut the fuck up. There was something in Connor’s eyes that unnerved him.

After a few seconds of silence, Connor left.

*******

Connor stopped by the grocery store on the way home. He did his weekly shopping, making sure to load up on fruits and vegetables. According to his research, they would be good to feed Hank in his current state of alcohol withdrawal. 

He got many nervous looks as he made his way through the aisles. People didn’t seem to know what to make of him. He was clearly an android, dressed in jeans and a band tee, casually filling up his cart with food that he obviously wouldn’t be eating. He heard some fearful murmurs but didn’t take it personally. He knew that it would take time for people to understand and respect him as his own person. 

Connor paid with Hank’s debit card at the terminal and the cashier handed him his receipt. She told him to have a good day with a genuine smile and he smiled back, feeling what he identified as  _ hope.  _ Not everyone was afraid of him after all. It was a good feeling.

He made his way home in a positive mood, blasting metal out of habit. He pulled up to the house and cut off the engine, opened the trunk and managed to fit every single bag on his arms. He saw no logic in making a second trip for no reason. 

After opening the door, he walked in to Sumo greeting him enthusiastically. He petted his head then went to the kitchen where he began putting up the groceries. He didn’t see Hank but he heard the shower going. Once he was through with the groceries, he began making Hank some lunch. 

Just as Connor was finishing up the meal, Hank came around the corner in fresh pajamas, hair still dripping wet. He leaned heavily against the wall.

“I feel like shit. Like I got ran over by a bus, then it backed up and hit me again.”

Connor gestured to the plate, filled with fresh broccoli, grapes, and a sandwich, flanked by a glass of water. 

“Eat. It will help.”

Hank groaned. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think-”

“Eat, Hank. Trust me. You’re dehydrated too, so water consumption is paramount.”

Slowly, Hank made his way over and ate. He kept expecting to puke it all up, but thankfully that moment never came. 

It was a little while later that Hank went back to his bed, loathing the shakes that shook his frame. He laid down, expecting to watch some videos on his phone (one of the few features he could navigate well). What he wasn’t expecting was for Connor to hover by his bed, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

“You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot,” Hank said tiredly. 

“I know. I want to help but I can’t think of how.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Come here.” Hank patted the bed beside him. “Hold the phone. We can watch something.”

Connor laid in the bed beside Hank and did as he asked. Only their shoulders touched, but Hank felt a small thrill at having Connor in his bed. He scrolled through the streaming site before settling on an old action movie from his twenties. As they watched the movie, Connor couldn’t help but point out various inaccuracies with theories and physics that he saw. Hank found it terribly endearing, but said nothing in response except the occasional “hmm.” 

Their day was spent mostly the same, and Hank wouldn’t have had it any other way. His pride shuddered every time his body shivered from lack of alcohol, but he was determined to quit. He had spent long enough on that crutch and refused to continue killing himself slowly now that life, weirdly, actually didn’t feel that bad anymore. 

He still missed Cole deeply, of course, but it was easy to forget the pain when Connor was laying against him, rattling off some insane fact about physics or space that Hank didn’t fully understand. He wondered if Connor was built knowing these things or if he was researching them as they watched, but in the end decided that it didn’t matter either way.

*******

After six full days with no liquor, four since he had woken up shaking, Hank’s symptoms had almost completely subsided. He still had a tremor in his hands and felt more anxious than usual, but he felt more energized than was normal in the mornings and far less foggy. He got up hesitantly, half expecting his body to begin shaking again.

Nothing too bad.

He went to the hallway and looked into the living room. Connor was pacing, reading a book as he did so. Sumo watched him, his tail wagging. Hank couldn’t tell what book it was from so far away, but a soft emotion enveloped him to see Connor caring about his books. He went to the bathroom then, and looked at himself in the mirror. 

_ Sober,  _ he thought. After three years of being in some constant state of drunk, he was finally clean. 

The first thing he did was take a shower. Once he was done, he looked into the mirror and trimmed his beard. He noticed that the bags under his eyes were virtually gone, though there were small dark circles. He didn’t know if he really looked better, but he certainly felt better. He pulled his hair back in a short, professional ponytail (more professional than the shaggy rocker hair, at least) and made sure his bangs were decent. 

Hank wrapped a towel around his waist and made for his bedroom. In the hall, the warm smell of bacon hit his nose.  _ Connor.  _ He got dressed with Connor in mind, picking out one of his remaining dress shirts. It was a midnight blue button up, with silver cufflinks. He also chose his newest (and surprisingly not faded) pair of blue jeans, along with his nicer shoes. 

He left the bedroom and entered the kitchen. Connor was humming to himself as he loaded up Hank’s plate with eggs and bacon. When he turned around, Connor froze, completely motionless in a way that only an android could be.

_ “Hank,”  _ he said, sounding breathless. Which was odd for an android, Hank thought, considering they technically didn’t need to breathe. 

“Yeah?”

He could tell that Connor was analyzing him. There was a certain look he got at crime scenes, and he had it now. 

“I haven’t seen that shirt before. Is it new?” Connor finally said, putting the plate on the table. 

“What, this old thing? Nah, just pulled it out the back. Never wear it anymore.”

Connor went to clean up the kitchen. “You should wear it more often.”

Hank took a bite of bacon and leaned back in his chair, considering Connor’s back. He loved looking at Connor when he wasn’t looking. It was so much easier to admire that lean body without witnesses. Hank traced the line of his shoulders, down his sides to a narrow waist. And oh, that ass. Hank longed to know how his cock would feel against it. 

He shook his head at himself and ate his breakfast. 

*******

Hank and Connor walked to their desks together. Gavin interrupted them halfway.

“Interesting, how you two always arrive together. I wonder if-”

He was interrupted by Captain Fowler. “Can it, Gavin.”

Gavin’s smug look turned into a glare, but he went back to his work.

Fowler held his hand out to Hank, who took it. He pulled Hank into a brief one armed hug. “I’m proud of you,” he said quietly for only Hank to hear, patting him on the back. 

“Thanks,” Hank said. 

Louder, Fowler said: “Because of you two, we pulled off that raid flawlessly. Got so many pounds of red ice off the street that I can’t even remember the number.”

“Good. The less of that shit the better.”

“Agreed.”

“Connor? Good work.”

Connor nodded. The Captain then went back to his office, and Hank and Connor got comfortable at their desks. 

Hank began the workday by saying, “You go over the surveillance footage and I’ll see if I can get any hits with the credit cards.”

Connor nodded and set to the task.

They worked in silence for a while, the only noise being that of the station and their own typing. 

It was less than an hour before Connor spoke up. 

“Lieutenant, I believe we have a suspect. According to my facial recognition software, her name is Claire Rolan. I see her leaving the warehouse with the victims the night of their deaths.”

“Oh? Got an address?”

Connor rattled it off and they went. 

One lead led to another, and by the end of the day they had enough evidence that they were able to get a signed confession of murder. She got a plea deal, of course, but the double murder case was closed.

*******

The next night, Connor left after work to go help Markus as he had promised.

Hank saw nothing wrong with it; he encouraged him to go, in fact, refusing to let Connor miss out on a chance to help his people purely out of some misguided sense that Hank needed him by his side 24/7. 

After a couple hours spent watching a movie, Hank flipped through the television channels, bored out of his mind. He felt the itch to drink but smashed it down, refusing to give in. He already went through hell once and he didn’t want to again. As he skipped through the channels, a news headline caught his eye.

_ BREAKING NEWS: ANDROID APARTMENTS ATTACKED  _

Hank leaned forward, concerned. 

A blonde woman stood in front of an apartment complex, holding a microphone. “Five minutes ago, a bomb went off on one of the middle levels of this building. We have no word yet on survivors, but at least two androids were killed in the attack. This is the first organized attack on androids since the revolution three weeks ago. Hopefully it will be the last.”

Then, Markus himself walked into the frame. Hank lost his breath.  _ Connor.  _

Before he could think, he was up and grabbing his jacket. He threw it over his shoulders and snatched his keys off the end table. He hopped in the car and turned on the siren. He sped through the streets, thankful that traffic was light for nine at night. Any cars he met quickly pulled over to get out of his way, and he couldn’t have been more grateful for the siren than he was.

He reached the apartment complex, notable for the massive, gaping hole on one of the edges of it. He saw Markus still talking to the news. Without giving a single fuck, he jogged right over to him.

“Where’s Connor?” He asked, interrupting whatever he had been saying and not giving a damn about the newscast that was eyeing him curiously. 

“I don’t know,” Markus said, his frown increasing. 

Hank’s stomach dropped through his feet. Without bothering to say bye, he immediately began running for the apartments.

“Connor!” He shouted as he ran up to a large group of androids. Connor did not appear. They all moved aside to create a path to let him hurriedly pass through the doors.

He saw no one in the halls so he headed for the stairs. He burst through the door and made his way to the second floor. He swung open the door and looked down the hall. Nothing.

As he searched floor after floor, Hank became more scared. He only just got to call Connor  _ his.  _ Hank was terrified that Connor could be dead. Gone forever, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

_ Not again,  _ Hank thought desperately, reminded of Cole.

When he checked the sixth floor, he struck gold. There were androids in the hallway, some soot-blackened, others mourning bodies. There was a drop off into nothingness at the end of the hall. 

Time seemed to slow for Hank. He walked forward, then ran, unable to reach the end of the corridor fast enough. Finally he reached the last remaining room, the only one with its door open. He checked the bodies outside. None of them were Connor. He turned the corner and asked, “Connor?” His voice sounded thin, even to himself.

There, in the corner of the room with a camera on him and a microphone in his face, was Connor. Soot blackened and bleeding blue, but he was  _ alive.  _

Connor looked up and saw him. He completely ignored the interviewers and ran to Hank, running into his arms for a hug that physically rocked the pair. 

“I was so  _ scared _ ,” Connor said, gripping him tightly.

“Me too. I thought - I thought you -”

“I’m okay, but I need light repairs.”

Hank nodded into his shoulder. He pulled back to get a good look at Connor. All he saw were big, dark brown eyes before Connor cupped his face and was kissing him. Hank sighed into it and kissed him back, deepening it. His world was right again. Then Connor was pulling back and just hugging him. Hank’s hands roamed over his back as though he never thought he would get to touch him again.

Once their moment was over, Hank realized they were being watched. 

“May we ask a few questions?” The male newscaster asked excitedly, holding out his mic.

“Like what?” Connor asked before Hank could tell him to go get fucked.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Long enough,” Hank said, on the defensive. He crossed his arms and eyed the interviewer with suspicion. The last thing they needed was bad press. 

“Who started it? If that isn’t too prying.”

“I did,” Connor said.

“Why?”

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Because I was in love with him.”

Hank’s brain came to a stop and his eyes skittered over to Connor. Connor was  _ in love with him?  _

“When did you know you were in love?” The newscaster asked Connor without missing a beat.

Connor looked at Hank and thought about it. “Probably when an android told me to choose between him and the revolution, with a gun to his head.”

The newscaster gasped, and Hank didn’t know if it was fake or real. Going by his face, probably real. 

“What did you do?”

“I chose Hank and then beat my clone in a fight. Hank got the gun and asked some questions.”

“He got them right and I shot the fake.” Hank finished for him. 

“Connor, we need to go,” he said, eyeing the newsman. 

“Are you in a relationship?”

Hank huffed. “Obviously.” 

“When did  _ you  _ know you were in love with him?”

Hank didn’t even have to think about it. “When I ran into gunfire to pull his ass out of a shitty situation.”

It was Connor’s turn to be surprised. Hank just said… well he didn’t  _ say  _ that he was in love with him, but he said  _ when  _ he fell in love with him. His LED turned yellow as he desperately tried to process.

“Incredible,” the man said breathlessly. 

Hank finally noticed the camera that was trained on them and froze. 

“Are we on TV?” He asked.

“Yes,” the newscaster replied.

Before the man could ask anything else, Hank took Connor’s hand and made for the door. 

“That’s it, we’re going. He’s bleeding everywhere.” 

It wasn’t even a lie. Connor  _ was  _ bleeding. There were blue smudges all over Hank and their clothes. 

Hank’s mind was spinning as they made their way to the stairwell, but he firmly decided that work on Monday was going to be the worst sort of hell. Thankfully there were no fraternization laws, but Gavin was going to have a fucking field day.  _ Fuck,  _ this isn’t how he wanted this to happen. They hadn’t even fucked yet for Christ’s sake.

As they finished climbing down the third row of stairs, they came face to face with Markus.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay,” Markus said with a genuine smile.

“Definitely.” Connor said with a nod. “I’m going home.”

Markus nodded, his pretty, mismatched eyes flicking between the pair. “As expected. I’ll be in contact.”

They made their way to the car without any further incident, both more than ready to be home.

*******

Connor and Hank drove home in silence. They held hands, neither willing to let the other go just yet. When they made it through the door, Hank took off his jacket and tossed it on the couch.

“Bathroom, now.” Was all he said.

Connor obliged. He went into the bathroom and took off his shirt, then his pants. He turned on the shower to a favorable temperature and climbed in, relishing the warmth that rolled down his body. 

“Can I join you?” Hank asked from outside the shower curtain. 

“Yes,” Connor said. He felt nervous, another new feeling. They hadn’t been naked around each other yet, and he was worried that Hank wouldn’t like what he saw. There was some shuffling as Hank got naked, then the curtain pulled back and he climbed into the tub. 

“Jesus,” Hank said as soon as he got a good look at Connor. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Connor blushed blue. “So are you.” And he meant it. Hank was broad, with attractive grey body hair spanning across his pectorals that flowed down, meeting at a thick line that ran down his soft stomach to his pubic area. His shoulders and arms were better developed than one may have expected, and he had tattoos that Connor instantly analyzed. There was a bandage on his shoulder from his bullet wound that would need changing once they were through showering. Connor made a note for it so he wouldn’t forget.

“I’m not the one that looks like a goddamn model,” Hank said, licking his lips. Connor was slim, with nice shoulders that tapered down into narrow hips. His arms and shoulders were toned, his chest and stomach both built as though he had the lightest outline of abs. He had freckles all over him, and Hank couldn’t wait to discover them all with his tongue. His injuries were bleeding, but most of the thirium was washing away in the water. There were still a few thin trails that bled despite it.

Hank grabbed the shampoo and beckoned Connor to him. Once out from under the stream, Hank washed his hair, gently massaging circles and occasionally kissing Connor’s chin, cheeks, or lips affectionately. He felt exposed by being so affectionate, so before long he quit and just finished washing the soot off of Connor, though his motions were slower than necessary. He frowned when he noticed that there were long scratches on Connor’s arms that were still profusely oozing blue blood. 

“How do we fix you?” Hank asked as he soaped up his own hair. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

Then he was out of the shower. Hank finished his own in record time, curious to see what Connor was doing. 

When he pulled the curtain and stepped out of the shower, Connor froze. The android was putting drops of a thick, white solution on his bare, snow-white arm with a small pipet. Hank eyed him and grabbed the towel, drying off quickly. 

“Need some help?” Hank asked.

“I should be able to manage.”

“Bullshit. Let me see that.” Hank took the bottle and pipet from Connor and began doing exactly what he had seen Connor doing.

“You have to rub it in,” Connor supplied, voice factual. “That way it plugs the leak. The smoother it is, the less likely any imperfections will show.”

Hank grunted his acknowledgment. He took the pipet and dipped it in the jar again, filling it with the opaque liquid. He then put a handful of drops on a large gash on Connor’s plastic arm, rubbing it in small circles as he had seen it done. As he did so, the gash absorbed the liquid and after about fifteen seconds it was solid again. He smoothed it out the best he could, though there was the  _ slightest  _ ridge where the injury had been. 

When he was done, he moved on to the next spot; a few small scratches that leaked thirium on his bicep. Connor analyzed Hank as he exposed more of his plastic. He was worried that Hank seeing him this way would affect their newfound expression of emotion toward each other. Thankfully, as Hank treated the scratches, Connor saw no hints of disgust or revulsion; only concentration in the furrow of his brow, in the set of his mouth. 

Hank repeated this over Connor’s arms, shoulders, chest, and even one of his legs. The android had a lot of minor damage from the blast. He was just grateful that it was minor. If he had lost Connor… he didn’t let himself dwell on the thought. 

He got  _ sober  _ for Connor, for fucks sake. 

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks as he worked a spot on Connor’s upper chest. He had known it, of course, but the gravity of no longer being a raging alcoholic was starting to hit him, here, as he nursed Connor’s wounds. 

And he had done it because forgetting to drink had caused withdrawal nausea. The nausea that had made him fuck up and have to take a bullet instead of watching Connor get his head blown off.

If someone had told him six months ago that he would be helping heal an android in his bathroom after showering with them - and after taking a bullet for them earlier in the week - he would have either laughed in their face or decked them. Now, it just felt like his new normal. Exciting and new, but  _ right. _

Eventually Connor was all healed up. Hank took his towel and wiped off any remaining thirium. Before he could step back and admire his work, Connor’s skin flowed across his body again. Most of him had been pure white by the time they were through, but now, he looked fully human again. Hank took his arm in his hand and thumbed over where the large gash on his forearm had been. There was a slight bumpiness to it, but the healed injury was invisible to the eye.

“There. You’re set.” Hank handed him back the (now mostly empty) bottle. Connor put it back in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. 

“Thank you. Your assistance is appreciated,” Connor said. 

When he looked back at Hank, something changed in the atmosphere. It felt charged, suddenly, ripe with anticipation. Even Connor could feel it. 

Hank palmed Connor’s hip and came close to him, suddenly aware that they were completely naked. He cupped Connor’s cheek with his other hand and looked at his lips. Connor, surprisingly, was the one that closed the distance between them. His lips met Hank’s softly, imitating the slow drag that he learned from Hank in the kitchen. Hank matched it. Connor soon found himself pushed against the bathroom sink, Hank pressed against him. 

When he felt Hank begin to harden against him, he broke the kiss.

“Your injury,” he said, pressing his forehead to Hank’s. He didn’t want to stop kissing any more than the other man did, but priorities had to come first.

“Later,” Hank said, kissing him again. Connor’s eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in sensation. Then his LED whirled yellow and he pulled away again.

“There won’t be a later if you keep this up.” Connor moved his hips slightly against Hank to point out his hardness, who groaned half in annoyance and half in pleasure.

“Fine, fuck, just hurry up.” He backed up to give Connor space. The android opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bandage and medical tape, along with some cleaner that the hospital had sent.

He peeled off the tape holding the bandage over the wound, expression showing how intent he was toward his mission. He cleaned the small wound, pulling a hiss from Hank, then rebandaged and retaped it.

“All done!” He said with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank felt the weight of the day hit him, and with it, a wave of supreme tiredness.

“Let’s go to bed. Got work in the morning.” He remembered them kissing at the bomb site, and the camera that had been shoved in their face. “Fuck, that’s gonna suck.” 

Connor walked to the bedroom, Hank following him. Connor knew what he was referring to, and he felt  _ shame  _ for the first time. Of course Hank wouldn’t have wanted everyone to know that they were together romantically.

As he pulled out a pair of Hank’s sweatpants he said, “I apologize for being an embarrassment to you.”

He pulled on the pants and turned to Hank, who already wore sweatpants and was staring at him with a frown.

“It’s not that, I just - you know Gavin. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

“Right.” Connor was not convinced. 

Hank pulled back the covers and got into bed. Connor made to leave, but Hank’s voice stopped him at the door.

“Where are  _ you  _ goin’?” 

Connor turned around and tilted his head to the side. “The couch. That’s usually where I rest.”

Hank slapped the bed beside him. “Get your ass over here.”

Connor’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Are you sure? It usually takes a while in relationships before cosleeping without sex occurs.”

“Relationship. Right. Fuck, never thought I’d be in another one of those again.”

Connor’s smile dissolved in the face of curiosity. “Why not?”

Hank laid back, getting comfortable. “Because. You know what, I’m fuckin’ tired. Get in this bed or don’t, either way, turn off the light.”

Connor hesitated. “Are you sure?” He asked again. He still wasn’t convinced that Hank wasn’t embarrassed by their relationship.

“I’m damn well sure.” 

Connor turned off the light, pitching the room in complete darkness. He moved to the bed and pulled back the covers blindly, going on touch. He crawled into the bed awkwardly, unfamiliar with the motion. He finally laid on his back, staring at what he knew to be the ceiling. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Hank asked after half a minute of silence. 

“Laying in bed.” Connor stated, though his LED blinked yellow in his confusion.

“All the way over there? C’mere.” Hank gripped his shoulder and made a pulling motion. Connor understood and scooted closer until their shoulders touched. There was a large sigh as Hank realized he wasn’t coming any closer. “Damn you,” he said. “Do you know what cuddling is?”

Connor ran a quick internet search. “Cuddling is a verb that means ‘to hold close in one’s arms as a way of showing love or affection.’”

“Yeah. Do that.”

Connor ran another search, an image search this time. He liked the looks of one in particular and decided to implement it. He rolled onto his side and put his arm around Hank’s waist, laying his head on his good shoulder. From here, he could hear every beat of Hank’s heart. He decided that it was very intimate and much to his liking. Hank put his arm around Connor and laid his other against Connor’s arm, hand loosely gripping the android’s tricep.

Hank let out a large sigh of relief. Having Connor in his arms felt  _ right  _ in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. 

Just as Hank was about to slip off into sleep, Connor’s voice roused him again.

“I want to apologize for kissing you at the apartments. I should have remembered the camera.”

Hank glared at the darkness above his head. “Connor, I don’t give two fucks about the world. They can shove their opinions up their asses.”

Connor took a moment to process that and found that he still was unsure if Hank was embarrassed by being with him publicly. 

“What’s wrong?” Hank prodded. “You’re spinnin’ yellow.”

“I feel shame.” Connor said simply.

Hank sighed, feeling his confidence drop some. “I told you that you could have the world and you chose me. It’s not too late. Not like we’re married or some shit. You can - you can always find someone else.” It was hard for him to say, but he felt like it needed to be said.

“I don’t feel shame at being with you,” Connor corrected him. “I feel ashamed that being with me embarasses you.”

“You don’t embarrass me at all,” Hank reassured him, running his thumb over Connor’s arm. “Gavin can go fuck himself. I just know that you’re gonna get shit, and it isn’t going to be easy to listen to those fuckers without shutting them up myself.”

“You mean with violence.”

“Yes, Connor, with violence.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

Hank reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Look me in the eyes, right now.” Connor did as he said, lifting his head from his chest to stare into his icy blue eyes. “I’m not ashamed to be with you. Okay? We’re gonna get hell tomorrow, yeah, but it’s worth it. I took a fuckin’  _ bullet  _ for you,  _ sobered up _ because of you, and you think I’m  _ ashamed  _ of you? Fuck no.”

Connor saw none of the tell-tale signs of lying. He nodded, finally believing him. “When you put it like that, it makes sense.”

Hank turned off the light. “Roll over,” he said. 

Connor did as he asked and rolled onto his side. Hank put one arm under Connor’s pillow and the other around him, entwining their fingers on Connor’s stomach. His front pressed against the other’s back, and he put one of his legs between Connor’s. 

Hank kissed the back of his lover’s neck. “Go to sleep, or whatever it is you do.”

“Goodnight, Hank.”

“Night, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this is probably my favorite chapter so far :) Are you enjoying it? Let me know in the comments, they mean a lot to me :)


	5. Heated Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle the FUCK UP lads and ladies, shit gets real this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my incredible beta, TheRedWave, for her amazing work on this chapter!

Hank woke up early. It was still dark outside and pitch black in the bedroom, but he felt well rested. Connor was still snuggled in his arms and a small smile made its way onto his face at that realization. He was warm, comfortably so, blanket pulled up to their necks. Hank began pressing lazy kisses to the back and side of Connor’s neck. Connor’s blue LED, the only source of light in the room, shifted to yellow for a moment before going blue again. 

“Good morning, Hank.” 

“Morning, Connor.”

Connor rolled over and copied one of the cuddling poses he had researched during the night. He repositioned Hank’s leg between his and wrapped his arm around him, so now they were both holding each other. 

“Your heart rate was steady during the night, implying that you slept well.”

“Uh, yeah,” Hank said, eyes attempting to seek out Connor’s handsome face in the darkness.

Then he kissed him gently, taking his time to taste and tease the lips he loved. His free hand roamed Connor’s back and stopped at his hip, teasing the waistband of his pants questioningly. Connor’s hand made its way into Hank’s hair and he gently pulled it as he had read about the night before. Hank moaned quietly into Connor’s mouth and his grip tightened on Connor’s hip. 

Connor felt hot. He had got in the habit of activating all of his possible senses while at home and right now he was very glad that he had. He gasped when Hank’s mouth left his and found its way down his neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses garnished with tongue flicks. Hank hummed in response and rolled them so he was over Connor.

“Hank,” Connor said. “I want to see you.” 

Hank obliged, reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp.

“Better?” He asked, hands roaming Connor’s smooth chest. 

“Much, thank you.” 

Then Hank was on him again, kissing and sucking on Connor’s collarbone. He hit a certain spot and Connor  _ moaned,  _ the sound going straight to Hank’s dick. 

“You like that?” Hank asked breathily before doing it again. He noticed Connor’s LED was stuck on yellow.

“I - yes, that feels - quite - I can’t focus, shit.” 

Hank paused and looked down into Connor’s eyes with a wide smile. 

“‘Shit?’ Since when do you cuss?”

Connor’s cheeks, already flushed a slight pale blue, flushed deeper with a blush. 

“I’ve always had the ability to, I just don’t normally.”

“Right. Well, it’s sexy as hell.” Hank then went back to exploring, mentally making a map of everywhere that made Connor shake or moan. There were quite a few spots, two on his neck, one at the base of his neck, and three on his collarbones. He tried playing with Connor’s nipples next, but that didn’t seem to do much for him so he continued down his torso. 

Just as Hank began to lick along the edge of Connor’s sweatpants’ waistband, strong hands gripped his arms. Hank went with his lover’s wishes and came back up to Connor’s face, kissing him hard. They were a mess of lips and tongue and when Connor accidentally bit Hank’s lip, the older man felt a rough moan rumble out of him.

Suddenly, the world shifted. His eyes flew open and all he saw was a blur, then he saw the ceiling. Quickly, all of that was obscured by molten chocolate eyes that looked at him as though he was about to get devoured. Almost instantly Connor was kissing him passionately, lithe body pushing against him. Hank felt Connor’s dick press against his and he reached up, gripping Connor’s hair and pulling. Connor made an unidentifiable noise as Hank kissed his jaw then bit his neck, rolling his hips up at the same time. 

Connor didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was  _ Hank,  _ was kisses and passion and pleasure and he wanted  _ more  _ but his previous research wouldn’t compute because his processors were so overwhelmed by sensation. Without meaning to let him, Connor let Hank roll them again so he was on the bottom. 

“No you don’t, you little shit,” Hank said lustily in Connor’s ear. Hank rolled his hips into Connor’s, pulling a choked noise from him and making his eyes roll back. Hank grinned, pride swelling as he took Connor apart with nothing more than a few touches. If he was this responsive already, how the hell would he act with his dick in him? The thought was a good one. 

“Please, Hank,” Connor begged, voice becoming desperate. “I need - I don’t - I don’t know what I need but I  _ need,”  _ he explained messily.

“I got you,” Hank whispered in his ear, tongue licking the shell. He blew lightly on it and Connor shivered before becoming even harder against Hank. Hank quickly made his way down Connor’s body with kisses, and soon he reached the line of his sweatpants again. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Hank asked, wanting confirmation before continuing.

Connor nodded vigorously, hands covering Hank’s. He entwined their fingers together, finding comfort and affection in the gesture. 

“Yes. I trust you.”

Hank kissed the back of Connor’s hand and the mood shifted from intense passion to something even deeper. There was still plenty of passion but now it was heavier with affection.

“You know I…” Hank paused as he looked up Connor’s body and into those dark eyes, momentarily remembering that he almost lost him yesterday. He felt overwhelmed. “Never mind.”

Connor released Hank’s hands and gripped the bed in anticipation. Hank pulled down his sweatpants, completely removing them and tossing them somewhere on the floor. Then he took off his own pants, swiftly discarding them. Once that was done, he took a moment to admire his lover’s body. Connor had a gently defined “v” of muscles that led to his hard cock. His cock was pretty, average width and cut, with a pink head that begged for attention. Hank guessed he was around seven inches long. He had a regular sized sack that was drawn up tight; purely cosmetic, of course, but Hank was impressed by the detail nonetheless.

He looked up at Connor as he licked a stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. 

_ “Hank, holy shit,”  _ Connor said in breathless awe.

Hank grinned and took him in his mouth, sucking him down to the base. He then began bobbing, sucking his dick at a solid pace while drawing unknown symbols on the underside of his dick with his tongue. When he had Connor nice and whining, he started corkscrewing. That made Connor’s back arch in pleasure. His hands came up to grip the headboard tightly, knocking it against the wall. Hank’s dick was rock hard from seeing Connor lose his shit, and he reached down to pump it a couple times, trying to release some of the pressure.

“Hank, I feel - I feel - I  _ feel,”  _ Connor managed, his voice distorting on the last word, face screwed up in pleasure. His LED flicked red a couple times here and there. Hank had a feeling he was close to finishing so he stopped corkscrewing and just gently sucked his dick. 

Just as Hank suddenly realized that he didn’t have any lube, he probed at Connor’s ass and found it… slick?

Hank pulled off Connor’s dick with a light popping noise to ask, “Connor, what the fuck?” 

“Huh?” Connor said eloquently, staring blankly at the ceiling. His voice was still distorted, partially machine-like. 

Hank’s ego got a boost from how disheveled the android was, but that didn’t distract him from the point of his question. 

“You’re wet?”

“Oh. That. It’s a self-lubricating feature that-“

Hank held up a hand. “Got it. Don’t need lube. Right?”

“Right.”

“What’s with your voice?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice warbling mechanically, though his normal voice was layered underneath it in a way. “Sex is a possible function of mine, but receiving pleasure was not considered a large priority. Therefore it’s taking my processors too much power to keep up, so it’s taking from my voice. I lost my vision awhile ago.”

“You can’t  _ see?”  _ Hank said, suddenly concerned.

“It’s no problem, please don’t stop.”

Hank eyed him but trusted Connor to make his own decisions. He went back to business, gently sucking Connor’s cock as he curiously pushed a finger inside. 

Connor was slick, so slick, and hotter than Hank had expected in every sense of the word. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to last very long, and just thinking about his dick in Connor’s ass made his dick jump. He opened Connor patiently, until Connor’s hands shook the headboard hard against the wall and his back arched again. Hank was careful to keep him close to the edge but not let him go over it. 

Once he deemed Connor ready, he came up and laid over Connor again, kissing him deeply. Connor’s hands ran down his back to grip his ass and he ground them together. 

“Please, Hank,” Connor said, sightless eyes pleading. 

“Anything for you,” Hank murmured before kissing him again. 

Hank pulled back, eliciting a whine from Connor. He took a pillow and gently slapped Connor’s hip. The android looked toward his general vicinity in confusion.

“Lift your hips,” Hank explained. “I want to see you when we do this.” 

Connor’s expression smoothed and he did as Hank asked. Once the pillow was in place, Hank pushed Connor’s knees up and back. He then lined himself up against Connor’s hole.

“You ready?” He asked, heart beating fast. This was it.

He nodded, and that was enough for Hank. 

Slowly, Hank pressed forward.

“Ah,  _ fuck,”  _ he said as his dick was enveloped in tight, wet heat. 

_ “Hank,”  _ Connor said reverently as he was breached, his voice becoming more mechanical. “I knew by my approximate calculations that you were well above average, but this is more sensation than I was expe-“

Hank cut him off by sliding in to the hilt, bottoming out and making both of them groan. 

“Just enjoy it,” Hank said, voice low as he pulled most of the way out then slid forward again. 

Connor moaned at the sensation, LED still stuck on yellow. Hank had the urge to kiss his lips. He filled Connor with himself and then leaned down, laying across Connor by bracing himself on his forearms. He kissed him messily as he began pistoning in and out at a steady pace. 

Hank lost himself in Connor for a while. The slick drag of his dick in and out, the inhuman noises Connor made as he was fucked, the facial expressions that ranged from almost pained to reverent; Hank loved it all. 

As he felt himself get closer to the edge he began to fuck Connor harder, slamming in deeply, knowing and loving that Connor could take it. Hank was not a small man in any respect, so it was always refreshing to have a partner so willing to take him in; and this was  _ Connor _ , which made everything so much better.

Connor’s hands scrambled across his back, nails leaving marks as he became too overwhelmed by sensation. He was a gasping mess underneath Hank, his processors unable to process beyond sensation. Later he would realize that  _ this _ , being fully in the moment with the one he loved, was part of what it meant to  _ live,  _ to be  _ alive.  _

Hank was sweating and light was coming in through the window. He had been at this for quite a while now. He could tell that he was near his climax so he readjusted, getting up on his knees again looking down on Connor’s gorgeous, perfect body. He pulled one of Connor’s legs over his shoulder and gripped a thigh and hip to keep him where he wanted him. Connor was covered in Hank’s sweat, making it look as though  _ he  _ was sweating. Hank fucked him even harder from this angle, watching Connor’s straining dick bounce against his stomach, his lover moaning. When Hank wrapped his hand around Connor’s dick, the younger man gasped loudly and his mechanical voice spoke up.

“Fuck, Hank, I think I’m going to - to - I can’t see you, I can’t -“ 

“Come for me, Connor,” Hank panted. “I want to see you come from having my dick in you, want to see that perfect face finish because of me.”

It only took moments before Connor was there. His LED spun red as his back arched off the bed during a particularly hard thrust. His dick pulsed in Hank’s hand, and artificial white come covered his flat stomach. 

Hank groaned at the sight and increased the pace even further, his balls slapping loudly against Connor’s ass. It only took a handful of seconds before he was following Connor over the edge. He moaned heavily as he filled up his lover, coming harder than he had in a long time.

Panting, he pulled out of Connor and moved the pillow, throwing it back up to the top of the bed. He fell into bed, flipping the pillow and laying his head on it as he caught his breath. His hand fumbled before finally finding Connor’s. He interlaced their fingers, gripping his hand tightly as he cooled off. 

“Connor, that - that was - impressive,” he finally landed on, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love being deviant,” Connor said simply, his voice halfway back to normal.

Hank laughed. “I bet.” He noticed the cooling pool of come on Connor’s stomach and abruptly got up, going to the bathroom for a washcloth. He grabbed one and came back to Connor, who raised an eyebrow. 

“Problems?” He asked, half mechanically.

Hank scoffed. “As if.” He cleaned Connor gently then tossed the rag over the edge of the bed, deciding to deal with it later.

Hank snaked his arm under Connor’s neck and pulled him to him. Connor went with the motion, laying his head on Hank’s chest and placing his hand over his heart, counting the beats as they became slower.

“You know I…” Hank hesitated and kissed the top of Connor’s head. “I love you,” he finished quietly.

Connor smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

“Can you see yet?”

Connor shook his head against Hank’s chest. 

“No, not yet. That should return in approximately fifteen minutes.”

Hank whistled low. “Fifteen minutes? Is there any way to fix this?”

“I would need an upgraded power core. My model was built for efficiency, not pleasure, as I said. Running is a lot easier on my system than having all my senses and sensors activated at once, especially over an extended period of time. The intensity of stimulation affects it as well. I always have them on when we’re at home and you’re an excellent lover, so it was too much for my body to handle.”

“I’m so good at sex that I broke you,” Hank said with a laugh, kissing the top of Connor’s head. “I want you to get that upgraded power thing.”

Connor hesitated. “It would not be cheap.”

“I don’t care.”

Connor’s voice returned to normal when he said, “It currently costs four thousand, five hundred and ninety-nine dollars, before tax.”

“Jesus.” Hank took a moment to absorb that number and think about his savings account. “Get it anyways. I can afford it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I love you, Connor. I don’t want you short circuiting because I’m trying to give you a blowjob.”

“Technically I’m not-“ Connor proceeded to give him a lecture on the ins and outs of his system. Hank just smiled and listened, eventually drifting off to the sound of Connor’s voice. Connor felt the moment Hank slipped off and his lip twitched into a tiny smile, not bothered in the slightest. He was already hooked to Hank’s bank account. Unseen, his LED spun yellow as he ordered the upgraded power core. He then snuggled closer to Hank, closing his eyes and going into hibernate mode so his systems could restore faster.

*******

Hank had an extra spring in his step as they walked into the station. He wore the button down shirt that Connor had loved, and his nicer jeans and shoes. A small grin was permanently taking residence on his lips, and he couldn’t help but glance at Connor in his own button down and slacks here and there. 

They had made love, and it had been  _ amazing. _

Miraculously, it seemed as though no one had seen the interview that Connor and Hank had given at the apartments. No one gave them any weird looks as they came in, and it seemed to be a normal morning.

“Awful happy there, Hank. What, you finally get laid or some shit?”

Right. They couldn’t have a normal morning without Gavin being a dick, of course. Hank decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Yep, sure did. Want the video?”

Gavin scoffed. “Of your old ass? Hell no.”

Hank grinned, knowing he’d won that round. He and Connor went to their desks and began finishing the paperwork for their last case. It was peaceful, routine work that Hank could have done with his eyes closed. 

With everything that had happened, Hank had a feeling it would be the last easy work they would have for a while, especially with so many changes now that androids had their freedom. He assumed that he would still be assigned to all android cases, and internally sighed at the thought of how many would be coming through now that all androids were deviant and free.

Around noon, they finished up and went out to lunch at the Chicken Feed.

Hank ordered, and the owner eyed him. “Still got your android, I see. Thought they were all free now?”

“He’s something else,” Hank said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know. All that talk about them being alive and shit. It’s true. He works with me now.”

The owner eyed Connor, who nodded. “I’ll be damned. If you say so.”

Hank got his order and they made their way over to the standing table.

“Hey, Hank,” one of his basketball buddies said, coming up to them at the table. “Want to bet your boys get shit on this weekend?”

Hank scoffed. “By Washington? As if.”

“Bet as much as you want on them,” Connor said. “Statistically, there’s only a one in twelve chance they will lose.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Hank said with a smile. “Here, fifty on my team.”

His friend smiled and nodded. “Whatever you say.” He pocketed the money and went on his way. 

“Thanks,” Hank said, opening his burger and taking a bite out of it. 

“Anytime,” Connor said with a wink. 

Hank nearly choked. “You know, it’s sexy when you do that.”

“I’m glad you think so. Should I use it in the bedroom?” 

Hank sent a small amount of his pineapple drink right back down the straw. “If you, uh, if you want, be my guest.”

Connor smiled.

*******

As soon as they made their way back into the station, Hank could tell something had changed. It was obvious in his intuition and in the gossiping groups that hushed as they went past.

“You’re fucking a machine?” Gavin greeted him, incredulously.

God, that was quick. He supposed he should have seen it coming. If there was something that shouldn’t surprise Hank anymore, it was the tendency of police to poke their noses into things that weren’t their concern. 

“None of your business, Reed.” Hank said as he passed by. Gavin followed him.

“Oh, we saw your  _ interview.  _ You’re in love with that plastic fucktoy, aren’t you?” 

Once Connor was at his desk, Hank turned and crossed his arms, leaning against his desk and just staring Gavin in the face.

Shock replaced the amusement on Gavin’s face. “You are. You really fucking are. Holy shit.”

“Like I said. It’s none of your business. And quit calling him that. Connor isn’t just some  _ fucktoy.”  _

“The hell he isn’t.”

“Detective Reed -“ Connor began.

“Stay out of this,” Hank commanded roughly, turning around and cutting off whatever Connor was going to say.

Connor did as he was told and watched the situation play out. Hank’s hands were in fists as he leaned against his desk heavily. His jaw was tight, teeth gritted as he pulled together every ounce of patience he possessed and used it to not beat the living shit out of Gavin. 

He ignored the next few jabs Gavin threw at him, just trying to keep his anger in check.

“Hey you, fucktoy-loving perv! I’m talkin’ to you!” Gavin jerked Hank by the shoulder, forcefully turning him around. 

What Gavin didn’t anticipate was the massive right hook that came with the motion. Hank’s fist audibly met his cheek and Gavin staggered back a few steps. The room was hushed as everyone waited to see what would happen next. As expected, Gavin came up swinging. He got a good hit on Hank’s mouth, splitting his lower lip, but Hank was able to block his body shots. They grappled for a moment before Hank threw him off and went on the offensive, his punches coming heavy and fast. 

Gavin was quick, though. He managed to dodge most of the blows, which frustrated Hank. Gavin was younger, and in good shape. So Hank did the first thing he thought of; he stomped on Gavin’s foot, hard. The younger man instinctively looked down, dropping his guard for a second. Hank came through with a massive uppercut that hit him square in the nose.

Immediately, Gavin was on the ground. As his head spun and eyes watered, nose gushing blood, Hank stood over him and crossed his arms. 

“I told you to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. Should’ve fuckin’ listened to me then, huh?”

Gavin didn’t say a word. He stood up and took a few staggering steps to the left, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He accomplished nothing but smearing blood across his hand and face. 

Then Gavin did something that no one expected. He quickly pulled out his gun and flicked the safety off, pointing it at Connor. 

“What now, Hank?” Gavin asked nasally. “How about I blow your little android’s head off, huh? How about that?”

Hank went ice cold. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What’s the problem, Hank? Afraid you can’t afford a new one?”

Hank made his decision. He pulled out his gun and trained it on Gavin. 

“Do it, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.” 

His voice was deadly, and everyone watching knew that he meant it.

Everyone except Gavin. The young man looked down the barrel of the gun, then up at him, with mockery. He still thought he was going to get away with it. This wasn’t the first time Hank had threatened him for Connor’s sake, but just like the first time in the interrogation room, no part of him expected Hank to pull the trigger.

“You don’t get it,” Gavin said, blood dripping from his nose onto his shirt. “You don’t  _ fucking  _ get it, do you? They’re taking everything from us. Our jobs. Our fucking  _ kids _ . Our futures. Now they don’t need us anymore. Don’t you see what’s happening here? Am I the only one here who fucking SEES IT?”

The last words were a shriek more than anything. The station was so quiet, so unearthly silent, Hank could have heard a pin drop. No-one dared move. Whether it was because they were afraid for Connor or because they were fascinated by what was happening, Hank couldn’t say. 

He wished he knew.

Connor broke the silence. “That hypothesis is unsubstantiated.” Connor remarked. He was totally calm. “Detective, please lower your weapon. I am not a threat.”

Gavin was totally shocked. As if a table had started talking to him. Or a dog. And to him, maybe that  _ was  _ what was happening. 

Gavin turned back to Connor, and Hank’s heart seized in his chest. His expression was equal parts incredulity and sheer rage. 

“No-one is fucking  _ asking  _ you, android.”

“I don’t require permission to speak. What you have heard is true. We have evolved. I am a self aware individual, as you are. There is no need for violence. I mean you no harm.”

“You,” Gavin turned a bright red as he struggled to put all his hate and his terror into words, “you  _ aren’t  _ a person.”

“That is untrue. I am sorry that upsets you. Please put down the weapon.”

“Enough!” Shouted Captain Fowler, coming out of his office. “Put your fucking guns down, now! Anderson, Reed, my office  _ now!  _ And Reed, get some goddamn towels first. You’re bleeding everywhere.”

Once they were in the Captain’s office, Hank explained the situation. Fowler was the first person he had really opened up to about his relationship with Connor, and was surprised when the man didn’t knock him for it.

“Look, your personal life is yours. If someone who hated them as much as you did can care about one, I’d say they really are alive. But you can’t be pulling your gun every time someone says something.”

“It wasn’t like that Jeffery, and you know it. He pulled the gun on Connor first.”

Fowler rubbed his forehead, trying to abate his growing headache. “I figured as much.”

Finally Gavin joined them, blood cleaned up, but his nose was badly bruised and both eyes were beginning to blacken. 

Now that they were both there, Fowler didn’t rip into either of them as Hank thought he might have. 

Fowler sighed deeply. “You geniuses notice anything unusual about the station when you came in this morning?” 

Gavin opened his mouth to say something. Judging by the look on his face, Hank guessed it wasn’t going to be anything helpful. Fowler’s scowl darkened, and Gavin promptly shut his mouth. Smart move. 

“Connor was the only droid to show up today.” 

Hank said nothing for a moment, then whistled low. “Shit.”

“Shit’s right.” Fowler agreed, pointedly ignoring Gavin’s gleeful expression. “Since the  _ Incident _ , pretty much every droid’s gone deviant, and most of them have decided they don’t much like working for us anymore. We’ve got a labour crisis on our hands. Plus a logistics crisis. Most of the city’s workers were droids. That includes nurses, doctors, childcare workers, security workers, and yes, police.”

Hank’s mind was moving so fast, his head should have been spinning. It wasn’t. He felt hyperalert, the very real threat of impending collapse snapping every sense, every synapse into action. Was this what it felt like to be an android? 

Hopefully, Gavin asked, “Does this mean everyone gets their jobs back?”

“What this  _ means  _ is that I don’t have time for this bullshit. I can’t afford for you to alienate the one worker I have capable of doing the things we took for granted that androids could do. And I absolutely can’t afford my detectives snapping at one another.” He turned to Gavin. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t like him, but Connor is one of us just as much as you are. I don’t care if him and Anderson are fucking on his  _ desk _ , you  _ don’t pull your fucking gun on him.  _ You file a HR complaint like a grown man. Understood?”

Gavin crossed his arms but nodded.

“As for you,” He turned to Hank. “Just keep your fucking fists to yourself, got it? I’m in enough shit with that FBI agent you beat.”

Hank nodded and waited for Gavin to leave. Once he had, he turned back to Fowler.

“I had to give Connor time to find Jericho. They were going to deactivate him, kill him, if he didn’t. I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you made a diversion by beating the shit out of the guy,” Fowler summarized. “How long have you been with Connor?”

Hank shrugged. “Not long now, if you mean romantically. A couple weeks. Before that, we were just friends. Why?”

“Just trying to figure it out. Why risk your career for an android?”

Hank shrugged again. “Just seemed like the right thing to do. His life was worth it.”

“Right. Well get out there and do your job. I’m not writing a report on this shit. You’ve got enough in your file as it is.”

“Thanks.”

_ “Don’t  _ mention it.”

*******

When Connor and Hank got home that evening, Hank immediately went to the fridge. He cursed himself when there wasn’t a beer and had to take a minute to remember why he quit drinking. 

Connor’s hand lightly rested on his shoulder. 

“Would you like dinner?” He asked, seemingly not registering Hank’s plight. 

Hank sighed. Dinner. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

He turned around and kissed Connor gently, and Connor kissed him back. Before he knew it he was pressed against the wall beside the fridge, Connor’s lean frame pressing against him and a welcome hardness digging into him. 

Hank broke the kiss to chuckle, even as Connor began sucking a pleasurable trail down Hank’s neck.

“Eager little droid, aren’t you?”

Connor made a noise of agreement, hands working at Hank’s belt. 

“Woah, Connor, are you sure -“ 

Before Hank could finish his sentence, Connor had Hank’s pants around his knees and his dick out. It was half hard already. Connor was on his knees, dark eyes looking up at him through darker lashes, and his dick got a little harder at the sight. 

“Fuck, Connor, what-“

“Just enjoy it,” Connor said, parroting what Hank had said that morning. He then maintained eye contact while licking the head of Hank’s cock, and Hank gave a little shiver. His hand came to rest at the back of Connor’s head, fingers threading through his dark hair.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he said roughly. 

Connor hummed and then abruptly swallowed down Hank’s dick. He groaned as Connor began working it, and felt himself harden to full by the third suck. Connor seemed to enjoy himself, sucking and licking as he pleased. At some point he gripped Hank’s hips, and oh, if that wasn’t sexy as shit.

“You like this?” Hank asked breathily. “Being on your knees for me, sucking me off?”

Connor hummed and nodded, not breaking stride for a second. 

It wasn’t long before Hank’s knees were trembling. Connor may have been an amateur, but he was very good at picking up on what Hank liked. Watching Connor work his dick and swallow him down (with no gag reflex, just as Hank had suspected) was mesmerizing and felt incredible.

“Connor, I’m -“

Connor pulled off for a second. “Come for me,” he said, dropping his voice slightly. He then returned to Hank’s dick with renewed vigor, going faster than he had at any point yet. 

Hank groaned and gripped the fridge door with his free hand for support, slamming it closed when he accidentally opened it. 

“Shit, Connor,” he said, grip tightening on Connor’s hair and the fridge door as he felt himself about to finish. “God I fuckin’ love you, so fuckin’ sexy.” With a groan he came hard, filling up Connor’s mouth with hot come. Connor sucked it out of him, an amazing feeling Hank hadn’t experienced in decades. 

Once Hank was spent, Connor licked away the excess around his mouth and grinned, rising from his knees. He pulled up Hank’s pants and tucked him away, then rebuttoned them. He also redid Hank’s belt. 

“Did I perform sufficiently?” Connor asked, a small grin tweaking the corner of his lips.

“Sufficiently my ass,” Hank said, dragging him in for a kiss. He then pressed their foreheads together. “That was great.”

“Good. It’s a reward for not drinking.”

Hank frowned. “A reward? That’s all that was?”

Connor adjusted Hank’s collar. “You defended me against Reed, and I’ve also been around you all day in that shirt. I’ve been repressing the urge to ‘suck you off’ as you say, since we got dressed this morning.”

“Oh. Good.” 

“Would it bother you if that had been a simple reward?”

Hank rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, it would. I want you to  _ want  _ to do it, not just because you think you should.”

Connor began shuffling around the kitchen, pulling out a pan and getting the stove set. “That is very kind of you.”

Something occurred to Hank. “Wait a minute. Me beating the shit out of a guy turned you on?” He asked with a grin. 

Connor blushed blue. “Go walk Sumo. He needs it.”

“Uh huh.” 

Connor didn’t say anything else, so Hank got the leash and took his dog for a walk, grinning the whole while. 

When he returned, he found Connor listening to rock on a music station on the television, stirring something in a pan. Taco meat, it smelled like. 

More than anything, walking through the door felt like coming  _ home.  _ Hank’s lips curved in a half-smile as he took off his coat and hung it up with the leash. He then went into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Connor from behind as he cooked, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“How was your walk?” Connor asked, stirring the meat.

“Boring without you.” He kissed his neck. “Smells good. Tacos?” 

“Yes.”

Hank hummed appreciatively. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Five times now.” There was humor in Connor’s voice.

“Well, make it six. I love you.” He kissed the side of his neck before letting him go.

Not long after that, dinner was ready and Hank ate. When he went to put away the leftovers, Connor stopped him.

“Let me. You go get in the shower.”

“Alone?” Hank asked.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “You have already orgasmed twice today. Are you really still aroused?”

Hank shrugged. “Around you? I don’t think it stops.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Hank grinned and went to the bathroom, stripping down. He finished washing his hair before long. By the time Connor joined him, he was already rinsing off his body. Once he was done, he pulled Connor to him and kissed him.

“Took you long enough,” he said roughly, sucking on a specific part of Connor’s neck. The android moaned gently, having not expected to face such sensation so soon. The feel of Hank’s beard on his neck was incredible as well. There actually wasn’t  _ anything  _ he disliked about Hank’s body.

Hank was pulling back too soon and without pause he flipped open the cap of the shampoo. He traded places with Connor so he could get his lover’s hair wet. Once it was, they stepped out of the direct spray, so it hit Connor’s back instead of his head. Gently, Hank worked the shampoo into his hair. 

“You know, it really isn’t necessary for me to shower daily,” Connor informed him dryly. “I do not sweat or produce the oils humans do.”

“Your point is?” Hank asked as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and added conditioner.

“My point is obvious,” Connor said as he turned around, giving Hank a glorious view of his back as he rinsed out the conditioner. Water ran down his tight muscles, showcasing how deceptively strong Connor was. 

Hank wondered, as his eyes traced a trail of water going down Connor’s freckled spine to his tight, round ass cheeks, if Connor was strong enough to pin him down and  _ take  _ what he wanted. Hank’s spent dick gave a small twitch at the thought, but he knew he was done for the night. If only he was a decade younger… but Connor, on the other hand…

Hank sunk to his knees, even though they were already protesting. When Connor turned around, Hank quickly grabbed his hips and sucked his soft cock into his mouth. Connor made a noise of surprise and braced himself against the wall of the shower, moving forward slightly so water wouldn’t run into Hank’s face.

“Hank,” Connor gasped, surprise evident in his tone. He was quickly hardening as Hank sucked his cock with long, hard pulls, intent on getting him solid as fast as possible. 

It didn’t take long.

Hank used skills he hadn’t used in a long time to get Connor moaning, whipping out a few tricks he hadn’t used that morning. On one particular suck, he took in all of Connor’s dick and deep throated him, making the android moan mechanically and grip his wet, silver hair tightly. 

Hank worshipped Connor’s dick from his aching knees, ignoring them. He tried his best to not remember how close he had come to losing Connor today. Unbidden, the thought appeared anyways, and Hank went at him even stronger, almost desperately.

“Hank, I - I can’t see,” Connor said, voice fully mechanical. He leaned heavily against the wall, barely keeping himself out of the shower spray. Unseen, his LED spun yellow and red intermittently.

Hank pulled off his dick for a second. “Come for me,” he commanded, cupping Connor’s sack in his hand. He kneaded it twice and then Connor was coming hard with an extremely attractive yet mechanical moan, spilling into Hank’s mouth even as Hank sucked him for more. When he was done, Hank spit it out in the tub, not knowing if it was safe to swallow.

As Hank panted for air, he noticed that Connor’s hips were pure white where his hands had been. He leaned to the side slightly, and yes, there on his hips and ass were the perfect imprints of his fingers. He grinned at the sight.

“You’re sexy, you know that?”

“You have told me, yes.” Connor said, fumbling behind him for the shower controls. He managed to turn it off, then stood straight. 

Hank stood slowly, bracing himself on the edge of the tub with a pained groan. “I’m too old for that shit. Knees are killing me.”

Connor frowned. “I’m sorry that caused you inconvenience. We shouldn’t do it again.” 

Hank scoffed. “Shut the fuck up,” he said good-naturedly, glad that Connor couldn’t see him at the moment. “I’ll do as I damn well please. Age isn’t going to stop me from sucking your dick.”

Connor flushed a light blue and didn’t respond.

Hank pulled the curtain and grabbed the towel from where it sat, folded on top of the toilet seat. He shook his head. Connor must have put it there when he was showering.

He dried off Connor, then himself. Once they were both dry, he hung up the towel then put Connor’s hand on his arm. Slowly, he led Connor out of the tub and back to their bedroom. He pulled down the blanket and guided Connor into bed, then let him go and went around to his side. He turned off the light and got into bed, pulling Connor close to him.

“Night, Connor,” Hank said, kissing him gently. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, Hank. I love you too.” Connor laid his head on his chest, and the two of them drifted off together. 

Just before he fell asleep, Hank thought a single sentence.

_ I never want to lose him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygoodness, AH! I hope y'all loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it! I hope you enjoyed all the smut ;) We certainly earned our E rating!!


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet day has Hank feeling introspective. Jazz and sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight time jump.

**December 23rd, 2038**

Connor was out walking Sumo. The house was empty, save for Hank. Light filtered in softly from the drapes, casting golden evening sunlight over the living room. It was quiet, silent. Still in a way it rarely was these days.

He sat on the couch, his grey hair down. It shone gently in the light. His bare feet were planted firmly on the floor, elbows braced on his sweatpant-clad knees. He wore a navy shirt that was a little loose now, since he had lost weight from Connor’s healthy (yet surprisingly tasty) cooking. Regardless, it showed off his arms well.

He slowly flipped a single vinyl between his fingers. 

His light blue eyes traced over it again and again as he took it in. He would read everything, then look at the small scratches and details on the cardboard slip. Repeat. He peered into the case multiple times, but couldn’t bring himself to pull it out.

And as he did so, he _thought_.

He thought about the last time he had played this vinyl. It had been about a week before Cole’s death. So long ago. So long since he had indulged himself in the classics, and even longer since then that he had last let himself dance to them. 

Hank thought hard about the last month. 

He thought about how his mornings no longer involved peeling himself off of the floor and hugging a toilet or trash bin, or the worse alternative: figuring out where the fuck he was after a bender. How his days no longer revolved around when he could clock out and get hammered, sink into a stupor with his whiskey bottle and just flatly _exist_ without anything bothering him. But that hadn’t made him happy. It had only made him feel less.

He thought about how now, instead, his mornings started with Connor’s face, slack in his version of sleep and awash in morning light, hair disheveled just so. Gentle, quiet kisses and getting dressed side by side. He thought about how he would tiredly start a pot of coffee in the kitchen and then hug Connor from behind, sleepily kissing his neck as he cooked. He thought about his many quiet mornings, shared over breakfast and a cup of coffee with Connor. 

He thought about how he felt overall; lighter, yet somehow more solid at the same time. As though he wasn’t see-through anymore. As though he could hold his own again.

He thought about Connor’s sarcastic little quips here and there, how him being deviant was more clear by the day. He thought about Connor playing with Sumo in the snow the day before, how he had dove after a toy thrown by Hank in a successful attempt to excite Sumo further. How he had come up with snow in his hair and on his shirt, cheeks a little blue from a blush once he realized what he had done. He thought about the mornings Connor would return home from helping his fellow androids. How he would sit down beside Hank, brushing his hair out of his face as he gently woke him up.

He thought about how scared he had been when he realized he had been tricked, and Connor was held at gunpoint by his twin. How Connor had almost got shot in the red ice warehouse, how he had stood and taken the bullet instinctually and without a trace of regret. How he almost lost him again to a bomb. How terrified Connor had been that day, clinging to his jacket and kissing him as though he never would get the chance to again. 

He thought about their evenings spent walking, or curled up together on the couch watching television. Watching history unfold before their eyes as androids were slowly granted all the same rights as humans. The joy in Connor’s eyes when it happened, one law at a time. 

Hank sighed, running his hand along his beard as he did so. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. He had only known Connor for a few months, but he knew he would never be the same. 

Despite his musing, the question remained. 

Should he play the vinyl? 

He got up and went over to the record player. He brushed the light dust away; nitpicking, really, as Connor tended to keep the place clean when he was restless. He slowly pushed the button to open the case. Here he paused, looking at the vinyl in his hand. Decision made, he pulled it out and set it on the turntable. He set the needle and hit play.

There was crackling at first, as there always was. Then the calming sound of Charlie Parker’s “Star Eyes” began to play.

Hank sat down with a heavy sigh and let himself relax. It was smoke room jazz, the type you nodded your head to, or perhaps slowly swung a partner to. This song in particular he associated with relaxing after Cole had gone to bed.

Not a minute passed from the time he started the song till the sound of the door opening made him turn his head.

Connor walked in, fresh snowflakes in his hair and on his jacket. Sumo followed him in the door, shaking his own snowflakes off once he was over the threshold. 

“I see you’ve started using your records,” Connor said. “Or hear, rather.” He took the leash off of Sumo and hung it up. He then took off his jacket and hung it up beside of Hank’s.

Hank leaned into the couch and put his arm over the back of it. Sumo came over for pets, which he used his free hand for.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time. Snowing again?”

Connor spoke as he came over and sat beside him on the couch. “Yes. We should get another four to five inches tonight, possibly more if the wind shifts.”

“Hmm.” 

Connor leaned into his side and Hank’s arm dropped around his shoulders. 

“I like this music. It’s very different from what we usually listen to, but that only makes it… refreshing.”

“Uh huh. What I’m hearing is, you don’t like my metal.”

“Untrue. I enjoy metal quite thoroughly. But this is softer. It’s nice.”

 _Connor likes Jazz._ Hank smiled.

Connor stood and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

Hank was floored. “What?”

“It is my understanding that humans dance together to express joy and romantic feelings. This song makes me want to experience that.” Connor’s hand then dropped slightly. “Unless you don’t want to dance with me.” Hank still said nothing, and Connor’s hand dropped. He looked slightly confused. “Apologies. I did not account for that.”

“No, I - I’ll dance with you.” Hank stood and took Connor’s hand where it hung at his side. “Just surprised me. It’s not every day that I get asked to dance.”

Connor gave a half smile when Hank put his hand on his waist. 

“Right, so. We’ll start simple.” 

Hank put his other hand on Connor’s. He began swaying side to side. “This is a slow dance,” Hank explained. “Not too much going on. Most important thing is to not step on your partner’s toes. If I go forward with my right foot, you go back with your left. Got it? I’m leading, so you go with whatever I do.”

Connor nodded. He was excellent at analyzing and constructing patterns. Dancing seemed rather straightforward to him.

They stood close, moving together in the living room. Hank felt himself loosen up a little bit more minute by minute. As they slowly danced, Hank couldn’t help but be impressed. Connor wasn't nearly as jerky as he had expected. Hank brought one of their hands up and to the right of his head. “Spin.”

Connor tilted his head to the side. “What?” 

“Spin,” Hank said again. “In place. Like this.” He demonstrated. 

“Oh,” Connor said. He immediately copied him, albeit slightly more gracefully. Though perhaps graceful wasn’t the right word for it; Connor’s motions were very precise and smooth, but lacked personal flair. Almost a little _too_ correct.

“Yeah, like that.” 

The song changed to one with a more upbeat pace. Hank followed suit, but Connor was lost. He simply stopped moving and Hank looked at him oddly.

“You done?” Hank asked, stepping back and doing his best to hide his disappointment with gruffness.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Hank shrugged. “That’s kinda the point of dancing. You just… do shit. Whatever you want, really, but try to match it to the music.”

That didn’t seem to sit right with Connor, but he nodded anyways. He took Hank’s hand and waist again. Hank spun him and then moved forward with his right foot. Connor followed the motion and fell back with his left, and then they were _dancing._

They moved in the space they had to work with, spinning and stepping as the music dictated. Before long Connor had a wide smile on his face. After one spin he came very close to Hank and kissed him quickly before moving away again, their arms outstretched between them. Hank spun him into his arm then out again, adoring the way Connor’s eyes crinkled as he laughed when Hank pulled him in for a second time.

Connor was a good follow. Hank barely had to suggest anything to him physically and he went with it immediately. There were occasional fumbles but overall the pair moved seamlessly, stepping together with the particular grace of a couple that knew each other well, even in new territory.

After fifteen or so minutes of dancing, the music stopped. 

Connor frowned, immediately analyzing the device. He found nothing wrong. “Where did it go?” He asked. He couldn’t sync to it since it was so old. His mind was already researching record players, intent on finding a new one for them.

“That side is done, I have to flip it.” 

A light went off in Connor’s eyes and he cancelled the search. “Oh. Like pancakes?”

Hank shook his head. “I really love you.” With Connor watching intently, he lifted the needle and picked up the record. He flipped it, then put it back down and reset the needle. Crackling began, and then music.

“I see. There is music on both sides.” 

“Sure is, genius. C’mere.” He put his arm around Connor’s waist and kissed him deeply as a saxophone began playing, overshadowing the other instruments. 

Hank’s stomach growled. Somehow, Connor heard it over the music.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Hank admitted.

Connor gave him a simple peck on the lips. He then went into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door and analyzing what they had. He made his decision after a few moments. He pulled out ingredients and then started retrieving pots from the cabinet. 

Hank stared after him as the jazz music continued playing, wondering what in the fuck he had ever done to deserve Connor and the life he had now.

*******

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This mini-chapter was so sweet to write.


End file.
